Riddled In Fear
by ChasityNoel
Summary: "Let's see… when it all started, you ask? It started on much earlier than you'd expect. No, no, it didn't start at the Arkham Asylum incident… It started before that, even. Yes, why would you think I'm lying?" Being questioned on how you know a Rogue leads to long, long stories. And why you're being questioned... well sometime's that sucks even more. Riddler/OC. Rated for future.
1. The First Rogue

_Hello All! So uh... this is my first fanfic ever. Trying very hard to work on my story-writing abilities so any and all feedback will be great.  
_

_Do I really need to write I don't own any of these characters? ... besides the ones I made up, of course. Well then... I don't own Batman, or any of the characters in Batman. If I did, I wouldn't be here._

* * *

Let's see… when it all started, you ask? It started on much earlier than you'd expect. No, no, it didn't start at the Arkham Asylum incident… It started before that, even. Yes, why would you think I'm lying?

Alright… I was fifteen. I believe a freshman in high school. Don't look at me like that, I was held back a year in elementary.

I was fifteen, new to the world of being an "adult", and curious. Curiosity was always a big trademark for me… maybe that's why I get into so much trouble. I just need to -know- things, ya know?

Anyways, my mother worked for the GCPD. She was one of their I.T. consultants. After school rather than be apart of a club, I'd bring her a late lunch. Well, honestly I'd bring her entire team a late lunch. They all appreciated it, and the home ec teacher gave me free range of the kitchen during my last class - "study hall", so it became something I normally did that year.

I would cook some pretty nice meals for a fifteen year old. Lasagna, braised beef, lemon chicken… They would ask for it, I'd find a way to cook it. My mother would always beam with pride - sometimes it felt like I was the only person in all of Gotham that had an amazing relationship with my mother (seriously though, everyone seemed to have mommy/daddy issues… why?).  
The school year continued at a snails pace. I had friends, however I would always look forward to after school - where I could feel even more like an "adult" despite my mother's co workers treatment.

"There's our little connoisseur" called out Michael Brant as I came through the doorway with a big bag full of food. "What's on the menu for today?"

I couldn't help but hide my grin.

"I tried out tilapia… And even made cookies." I said with pride as I walked further into the I.T. office. A few hello's from the usual cops I recognized, and Michael and I were in.

My mother was the first to notice us -

"Kat! You're early today!" She said with a smile as she came over to take the heavy bag out of my hand. "How was school?"

"Good, per usual." I said with a smile. "How's work?"

"Monotonous." She gave a wink at me before calling out, "everyone, Kat's here with lunch!"  
From around cubicles arrived three other adults, two women and a man. The first woman was a pretty barbie-like person whose name was Cheryl. With her, Bambi. Whoever named their kid Bambi must have hated her, in my opinion. But Bambi definitely fit for her. Small, quiet, and mousy - always with a deer in the headlight look to her face.

The last male, Edward Nashton. Edward had short brown hair, bright green eyes, and had been the center of my affection since the first day I brought my mother lunch.

Of course I didn't say anything… What sane grown man would return the affections of a teenager? None, that's how many.

Still, it didn't stop me from rushing to my mothers work every single day.

"Smells delicious." Said Cheryl as she literally pat me on the head. In spite of myself, I winced.

"She's not a dog, Cheryl." Michael piped up as he swatted her hand away. I liked Michael, he was always incredibly nice to my mother and I. Nevermind the fact I felt it was because of his infatuation with my mother… But he was the kind of guy who didn't look like he belonged in IT. His dark chocolate skin always looked -thin- over his garishly huge muscles. He never mentioned working out, which boggled me as it looked like he had to spend a majority of his time at some sort of gym. Never the less, he was kind-hearted, and always reminded me of the strong-type who would love on bunnies.

Cheryl laughed off his swat as she grabbed a paper plate and helped herself to the tilapia and fried rice I had made.  
"Who chose fish today? I don't remember who…" Bambi questioned, glancing about the adults.

"It was Mr. Nashton's turn…" I said while chewing on the insides of my cheeks. "He asked for tilapia. It was pretty hard to make, but I'm pretty sure I got it down."

"Kat was cooking it last night even." My mother mused. "She tries so hard for us, we should be putting her on salary!" My cheeks burned. A side glance to Edward and he just gave me a lopsided grin. I silently smiled back.

"Thank you for the…" He paused in thought, "effort, Kat. Practice makes perfect, and perfection is always something to appreciate."

"Oh come on, Eddie-" Cheryl pipped, "always so damn stern. The kid tried really hard! She doesn't need to be perfect - " despite talking, she took a bite of her food, then paused, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. "-Damn.. this IS perfection!"

"Well my daughter can cook many mean meals." My mother bragged.  
"You'll make a fine wife someday, won't ya?" Michael winked at me as he served himself the tilapia. I just shrugged.

Marriage wasn't really high on my to-do list. Of course, it's likely because I was pining after someone ten years my senior.

And speaking of the center of my attractions, he silently helped himself to a plate, and walked right back to his cubicle to sit and eat in silence. I quietly trailed behind him, peeking around his cubicle wall to see his reaction. Without so much as emotion he put the food into his mouth - paused - and continued eating.

Privately, I considering that a success.

"Is it good?" I found myself asking as I placed a hand on the side of the wall, showing only half my face to his cubicle like a child. He jumped slightly, clearly startled that I had followed him. He glanced my direction, those tired green eyes peering at me through thick rimmed glasses, his mind already boggling on what to say to me.

Mr. Nashton always thought a -lot- before he spoke. At least, it always seemed as such. I was always curious what his inner monologue sounded like… (Now that I do know, I wish I didn't. What, you find that funny?)

He eyed me for a few seconds, one hand idly flipping his fork while the other still held his plate.

"You're getting better." He said slowly. I smiled lightly. It was a start. Mr. Nashton never really compliment anyone.

"Thank you." I said before turning away back to the others. Immediately, Cheryl was patting a chair at the conference table that sat between all of the cubicles. I kindly took it as my mother approached and set a plate of the food in front of me.

"So how was school today?" Cheryl immediately perked. Her barbie doll hair already twining in her fingers as she faced me completely rather than the table she sat at.

"It was nice…" I said.

"What did you get on that history test we studied for?" My mother asked. I visibly flinched. Really, this now?

"Erm… A C minus." I responded. "With the curve."  
From Mr. Nashton's cubicle, I could have sworn I heard a snort. Maybe it was my paranoia getting to me, though. (I now know it wasn't. Asshole.)

"Well that's a passing grade, at least, right?" Cheryl chimmed in with another pat to my head. I gave a half smile as Michael once more swatted her hands away.

"Really. you're going to give her a complex." Michael played as he sat down between myself and my mother. "C minus is good, but maybe we should try a little harder next time. You're planning on college, aren't you?"

"She's just a freshman, don't worry her about college…" Bambi murmured through her food. I just smiled at the adults.

"Occasionally. But I already know I want to work with computers… I'm good at them." I said through a mouthful of rice.

"She'll be our next head of I.T., you'll see." My mother crooned. "Mr. Nashton might have to worry about his job once she's graduates." She said the latter a bit louder, obviously trying to tease their generally quiet boss.

"I'll worry when I see it, Mel." Came a less than warm response from his cubicle. A round of chuckles from the table, and more pointless banter between each other.

That was my life for the longest time. I would arrive with food, every day I'd try to win the approval of my mothers superior, and the adults would go on and on, with my mother crooning over me.  
Then one day, my usual monotonous schedule changed ever so slightly. During late lunch, rather than hiding in his cubicle, Mr. Nashton pulled up his chair (I took what should be his spot at the table) and ate with us, in the highest of spirits any of us had ever seen him.  
"Well, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Everyone has to be in high spirits for the seasons, don't they?" He asked happily as he pulled his chair between myself and Cheryl. I watched my mother and Michael exchange glances worriedly and Bambi nearly bury her nose in her bowl. Cheryl, on the other hand, looked intrigued.  
"That's the spirit, Eddie." She chimmed. My skin was crawling underneath my uniform. Remember the feeling of your high school crush sitting next to you in high school? Euphoria. Probably one of the more happier moments of my life, it's sad to say.  
"So what's everyone's plans for Christmas? I'm heading to Florida. Got family there." the barbie continued. "Gonna be getting my tan on. I got this nice new pink bikini that gives no room for imagination if you know what I mean." She winked at Michael and he shifted uncomfortably.  
"Really, Cheryl. Must you?" My mother's lips were tightly pursed as she glanced my direction.  
"Because I haven't heard anything worse, mom." I smiled back. "It must be nice to get out of cold, dank Gotham. Especially with you-know-who flying around."  
"Who?" Bambi's eyebrows quirked. Mr. Nashton side-glanced at me, causing butterflies to flutter up my spine. I was likely turning pink from his attention. Embarrassing, really.  
"You know… The Batman." I said.  
"Oh, here we go…" My mother chuckled. "The Batman. They need to stop airing nonsense on the news. Gets to kids, these days."  
"Now, now, Mel." Mr. Nashton suddenly piped up. "She's not much of a child, is she?"  
Damn right I'm not.  
In spite of myself, I was smiling like an idiot.  
"So you think The Batman is something to get away from, Kat?" He turned to look at me, I knew my face was growing redder by the second.  
"Well… Don't you think so? A kid in high school said he watched The Batman beat up a whole bunch of thugs. I mean, getting the thugs off the streets is one thing… But beating them up kinda defeats the purpose to me…" I was yammering.

"Oh? And how so?" He had stopped eating. He was staring directly at me. "What would be better?"

"Well…" My cheeks flared.

"Oh come on, Edward. Give her a break." Michael slapped my back playfully. "Making her think too hard."

"Yes, because thinking more than a primate is something no one in this city should do." Mr. Nashton's insult wasn't abrasive. Nor angry. It was incredibly calm. Said as if it was a poem.

The table grew quiet. My mother and Bambi's mouths were open in shock. Cheryl acted like it didnt bother her and angrily stabbed her food into her mouth like it was a war. Michael just glared at Mr. Nashton. And if looks could kill…

"I would hire better cops." I finally said quietly, into my soup I had brought for everyone. "That's what I'd do." Side glancing at Mr. Nashton, I saw he was still staring directly at me.

"And what if you couldn't find better cops?" He folded his hands and rested his chin on them at an angle so he was now facing me. I re-fixated my stare at my soup.

Silence at the table. Uncomfortable, horrible silence.

"Anyway - what are you doing for Christmas, Bam-"

"I do believe-" A sudden snap from Mr. Nashton cut Cheryl off short, like a knife in the air. His voice had turned from calm to vuglar in seconds, a sound I'd never heard before. Honestly, my young mind was frightened of the sudden change. Mr. Nashton was not being his usual quiet self. "that little Kat was thinking. I realize that you do not enjoy doing it, however perhaps she has some chance in this world."

"Edward Nashton!" My mother was up and out of her seat, hands balled into fists from immediate anger. "That is quite ENOUGH. I don't know what has gotten into you as of late, but blatantly harassing us is not going to get our work done any faster and do not, I repeat, do NOT bring my daughter into this."

"I was merely making sure your daughter had the time to think." His calm demeanor was back. He leaned in his chair, sizing my mother up like an opponent, a smirk on his face. "Is that so wrong?"

Michael was up now too.

"I think we should call it a day. Let's go, Mel, Kat. Im sure Mr. Nashton won't mind it." The sentance was laced with venom as he glared over at his superior while resting a hand on my mothers shoulder. Neither waited for a response, as he lead her away to her cubicle to get her jacket. Bambi and Cheryl left the table quietly, eyes down and awkward.

Mr. Nashton reverted his gaze back to me, while I still stared at my soup.

"Well then?" He urged.

I glanced his direction.  
"Find a way to get rid of all the thugs?" I tried.

"How would you do that?" His grin almost looked… menacing.

The longer the pause, the more our eye contact grew uncomfortable. He stared, nearly unblinking, into what I felt like was my very soul for what felt like forever. However a few minutes couldn't have passed and my mother and Michael were already back.

"Grab your things, Kat, let's go." My mother said as she threw Mr. Nashton a dirty look. I didn't stop meeting his gaze as I stood and threw my bag over my shoulder.

Finally I just said,

"I don't know."

His grin grew wider as he folded his hands in front of his face.  
"I figured." He responded as we walked out the door.


	2. The Second Rogue

_Hi again all! Just trying to get a base out of the way to have a feel for who Kat is, why she does what she does, ect. This one is rather short. Next will be longer :) _

_No own, all that jazz._

* * *

The next week, mother lost her job. But then again, so did everyone on their team. My mother was, in short, crushed. It was all over the news: A man that went by the name of Enigma had riddled the city Christmas Eve with blackmail files in order to "out" all the scum of the city. It had taken The Batman (who, what do you know, is real) five days to figure out it had been Mr. Nashton this entire time. He'd used his powers at his I.T. job to retrieve all the information, and now because of him, the entire team was let go. Mother was in and out of questioning, a sad mess that tried to keep calm in front of me… But the signs were there. I knew. I wasn't stupid, despite everyone's need to treat me as such.

Mr. Nashton was put in Blackgate Prison. To say that I had lost my teenage crush and replaced it with unaltered hate would be an understatement. He was a creepy, horrible man who found himself to be better than everyone else. It just took me a little longer to realize that.

Alright, maybe I was stupid.

It wasn't until a year later my mother completely distanced herself from my family. At first, I thought little on it. Sometimes people just get engrossed in new jobs, especially her new one. I didn't see much of her work associates, except occasionally Michael would stop by. Father adored Michael, said he was fun to have around to talk sports and boxing matches. Michael never seemed nearly as enthralled as father did.

But then Michael would stop coming over abruptly, and mother never was around. Father grew more agitated as more months came and passed. Looking back - it should have been obvious… But I thought I had great relationships within my family, so why look for something I didn't want to see?

I was 17 when I came face to face with my first rogue. Well, second I would guess due to Mr. Nashton...

It was 4 am. I had woken because I wanted a glass of water, instead, I got held at gunpoint. Before I had so much as walked into the kitchen something behind me had grabbed my shirt and jabbed the cold steel of a pistol against my throat. In a panicked haze I looked for a familiar face, only to see mother crouching behind the couch, head peeking over in fear.

"How about this. You keep working for the boss, and we'll not only keep the details of your dirty little secret to your family… But I'll also let your precious kid live." Whoever was behind me, he was gruff, loud, and every bit of terrifying that I could picture. Immediately my body shook, my eyes welled up, and my throat tightened as though I were being choked from the inside. My legs wobbled with the threat to give out, yet somehow I managed to hold my own weight, deadpanning a stare at my mother.

My mother was blubbering, begging, no not Kat, not my baby. I could barely even think much less listen to what was going on around me. Everything was going in slow motion as my head swam within itself. The cold of the gun pushed harder against my neck, which made my mother shriek in fear. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. It was as though my tongue had swollen three sizes too big and now I was completely incapable of speech.  
The gun clicked as the brute turned his safety off.

"One more time, bitch. Give me the codes are your kid gets it!" He was so calm, collected. Like he was perfectly fine with blowing my head off and going about his day. Finally, my legs did give out… But whoever this was had hold of my waist.

"Alright- alright!" She wailed.

"Good." I hadn't registered someone else entering our small living room from our window. Yet there stood another man, at least I figured it was a man. Scrawny, brown fabric hung off him like loose, dead skin. Spindly fingers tipped with what looked like…

Jesus.

They looked like syringes, or needles.  
If my panic before had me holding completely still, the site of the rogue had me immediately struggling against the brute behind me. My legs, before jelly, were now struggling to kick and run away as my arms clawed at the arms of my assailant.

His face was covered by a mask.

A scarecrow mask.

It hadn't taken long for me to realize just who was threatening my mother in my apartment. More rogues had come and went since that christmas night two years before. A woman who controlled plants. A man with two faces. A woman who dressed like a cat. A clown-girl who was always with the Joker.

And a man who controlled your every fear and looked like a scarecrow.

The Scarecrow.

"Hold her down, you imbecile." The scarecrow hissed at his thug, who in turned hit me upside the head with the butt of his gun hard.

It was enough to make me fall back into a wet noodle state.

"Sorry boss." The thug murmured.

"Now, are you going to hand over the codes, or are you just going to sit and watch your daughter suffer a pain we both know you don't want her to go through?" The scarecrow was approaching my mother slowly, deviously. She was still shaking, holding something in her fists as though it were a lifeline.

"Take it. Please just TAKE IT." she exclaimed once he took another step toward her. From in her hands she thrusted a thumb drive in his direction.

"Please. Just leave us alone. We've done everything he's asked of us." She glanced my direction, then back to the scarecrow. "-Please!"

"We don't want more trouble, Mrs. Cunnings… We just want our information. If Riddler didn't find your work helpful, you'd be dead by now. Remember that."

And then he was gone.

Or maybe it was I that was gone?

Yes, it was most definitely me, considering the next thing I knew i was waking up on the living room floor the next morning, with mother gone.


	3. The New Cop

_Holy hell I nearly had a damn heart attack when I saw I had a review. Thank you very much Bat-teen! You made me squeal in delight :) Also your kind words made me finish this next chapter tonight rather than tomorrow ... so wooooo.  
No own. Blah blah blah. Im not Batman._

* * *

Mother never spoke to me about the incident. She acted like it never happened. However, occasionally I would wake up and hear the sound of my mother tersely speaking to voices I slowly came to recognize. How my father never woke to them, I can still never say, but I learned to become a light sleeper. The simplest of sounds would wake me. Not that it mattered - nightmares of my first night riddled me regularly causing bitterness and the dependence on coffee.

"How goes the work, Cunnings?" From across my office, I was awoken from my inner thoughts. A man in a blue uniform and a police badge was approaching with a cup-full of coffee. Handing it over, I eagerly took it and downed an immediate swig.

"It goes just fine." I sounded strained - a learned annoyance that masked myself from everyone around me. "Just as blockaided as usual. Damn I hate this job sometimes."  
Five years under a roof of a mother being blackmailed by a rogue, hiding a secret-affair that I quickly came to figure out (thanks curiosity…) led me to the life of a lowly police officer. I was 22 years old now, having left the police academy only six months before. What I really wanted to do was become a detective, but you don't just rise to fame under Commisioner Gordan's watch.

Ever since the day Mr. Nashton (going by Mr. Nygma now. Absurd.) destroyed my mothers job, I had a biting hate for anyone who took advantage of others. Especially rogues. They tried running the innocent through fear, and most succeeded in doing it.

I had to live through nights of no slumber, thanks to listening to thugs arrive through our living room window and demand I.T. jobs from my poor mother, and don't even get me started on the nights my father worked late, and she would sneak Michael in through her bedroom window.

Maybe I should hate windows.

What, my explanation not forward enough for ya? My mother was having an affair with a goon. I knew Michael was too ripped to be just an I.T. guy. In reality he'd been working for The Scarecrow for some time, and while threatening my mother to get dirt on people for his boss, the two managed to spring a fucked up Stockholm Syndrome type of relationship behind everyone's backs. They spent the next few years doing a mixture of sleeping with each other and threatening to out the other. It wasn't until I became a cop they both said they went clean.

Yeah. I'm sure.

I pinched the bridge of my nose to help an on-coming headache. It barely dulled the pain, but still, it was something to do rather than look up at my associate.

"Hey, we live to serve and protect, right?" The man, his name Steven, gave me a gentle smile. "It can't be that bad. What's the hold up?"

"Batman. Per usual." More malice laced in my words. I needed to find a way to take the edge off.

"Why Gordan trusts that guy is beyond me." Steven sighed heavily. "All he does is fuck up evidence, in my opinion."

"Nah, it's not even evidence." I sighed. "Its more just the fact that Penguin's lawyers are just going to use the same old argument they always do - the Bat apprehended the Penguin illegally, not us. Blah blah blah, poor Penguin's rights… blah blah. He's back in his comfy mansion. Its a waste of my time to fill out this paperwork when completely nothing is going to come of it."

"Ah, that's what's got ya up in arms?" Steven shook his head with a chuckle. "You're antsy, you know that?"

"And you talk too much." I murmured back as I sipped from my coffee again.

"Ohhh well in that case. I'm not gonna tell you that Batman caught Joker already." Steven put his hands up in a mock-offended fashion, but his words are what made my head snap up at full attention, headache be damned.

"Already?" I exclaimed. He nodded back at me with a smirk. "They want some patrols at Arkham Island. They asked for volunteers and since no one in the right mind would speak up…"

"Oh god please don't tell me" I moaned. I'd managed to keep as far the fuck away from that island of loonies my six months I'd been here… I wanted to keep it that way.

"You're still a rookie, so no. However I'm heading out there now. Was gonna say some of us are gonna need a strong drink after tonight listening to that psycho prattle joke after joke. So expect a text from me."

A sigh of relief escaped me against my will.

There was no way in hell I was ready to face rogues.

No. Way. In. Hell.

"Anyway. Try not to get too caught up in fussing over paperwork. You could be me tonight." He chuckled at me as he head toward the doorway out to our combined office. I nodded quietly at him, my eyes following him out.

"Yeah… Sorry." I called to him, but he was already gone.

Another sigh from my lips, and I was staring back at my computer screen. He was right, it could be worse. I mean, I wasn't the bravest cop, nor the best. I was a rookie, through and through, and my first time dealing with rogues being the Joker would just end up horribly.

People have quit because of him. Good cops, too. My parents thought I was insane taking on a job with the GCPD, especially after my mothers "strange" firing. But I needed to do -something- about this fucked up city. Even if it meant pushing another stack of paperwork to the higher ups to try to keep mob bosses like Cobblepott behind bars.

Not that it helped.

"And what if you couldn't find better cops?"

Like many days alone in my office, I felt the strain that came with the memory of Mr. Nashton's words. Ever since Scarecrow's destruction of my happy, ingorant life, I vowed instead of looking for better cops, I'd become one.

But my fears got the better of me.

I was no better than I was when I was that 15 year old kid.

My own aggravation wouldn't help me with my paperwork, only make the monotonous work stretch on longer. I opted for a breath of fresh air as I stood and walked out the doors Steven had left just a few minutes before.

The night was warm and sticky, much like most summer nights in Gotham. The smell of factories and fast food joints stuck into the air like putty. The sounds of night life surrounded me as I leaned against the railing and looked about the neighborhood before me.

It was much cleaner than it had been 7 years ago… But this place still needed work.

I couldn't have been out there more than 15 minutes when my radio sprang to life.

"Officer Cunnings, requesting your appearance in Detective Bullock's office." The sudden voice emitting from my shoulder admittedly made me jump in surprise, dropping the remains of my coffee off the side of the building. After a few swears under my breath, I took hold of the radio, clicked the speaking button and responded,  
"Ten four, on my way."

Making my way back into the building and through the zoo that was the main hud of all the packed-offices in the station was purposefully taken slowly. I'd stop occasionally to say hello to a few of my associates, helped one guy turn his computer on, and by the time I'd made it into Bullock's office-

"You took your time." Detective Bullock was easily not my favorite superior. To say he was my least favorite, as a matter of fact, would hit the nail on the head.

"Sorry. Evan was having trouble turning his computer on…" I tried to cover as he waved his hand to motion for me to zip it. Around me, five other officers were standing, waiting. Some looked agitated, while others simply looked bored being there.

"Now look alive, people." Bullock started, "I called you all here because we got an anonymous call from more than likely the Bat Freak." An associate to my left chuckled quietly, earning an awkward silent stare from Bullock himself as he leered daggers into the poor cops soul.

"If yer think' this is funny - just leave. We got too much stuff goin' on for jokesters." He growled as my associate just dumbly nodded and then began to stare at the ground with upmost interest. Bullock straighted his trench coat and cracked his neck slowly, then continued.

"Anyways… Looks like there's not only trouble in the asylum, but out here in Gotham too."

"There's trouble at the asylum?" I piped up, glancing between all the police around me, "didn't some of our guys just head out there?"

"And we're waiting to hear back from em. All we know is, Gordan and some of our guys are on that damn island and we can't touch it." Bolluck looked me up and down annoyedly. "Slow to meetings -and- to news, Cunnings? Where've you been that past half hour?" My face lit up in an immediate flush, being the rookie meant being diligent… and I was failing at doing so.

Lovely.

"Having.. er… I was… well…"

"Doesn't matter." He saved me the embarrassment from explaining I lost myself in my own thoughts while drinking coffee on the forye. "Joker supposedly planted bombs all over the city. It's our job to find them. And while we're at it, we got a rogue loose too."

The second "rogue loose" left his lips, everyone around me sucked in breath sharply. A few began to murmur right away. I sat and fidgeted with my sleeves nervously.

"... So which rogue?" finally asked the associate who had chuckled earlier. Bolluck glared down at all of us.

"I would think the bombs are more important right now." He said flatly. "But since you guys all look like you're gonna wet yourself at the thought of actually_ doin' yer jobs_… It's the Riddler."

… Perfect.


	4. The Detective

To explain the sudden surge of emotions going through my body at that very moment would take an entire damn Poe novel complete with footnotes. However, for the sake of my telling you, I'll try.

At first, the only thing I can say is the immediate over-whelming feeling of bitter cold. The tips of my fingers twitched in a near frost-bitten agony as my brain buzzed back and forth between white noise and screams of revenge. My eyes were trained on something very, very far away despite still being in an over-crowded tiny office with my fellow police officers.

"And what if you couldn't find better cops?"

It was like it was the first riddle The Riddler had ever given me. And it damn near haunted me every day. I'd never been given the chance to go after him, he's mostly been in arkham since my graduation from the academy… But now…

What if you couldn't find better cops?

My mother crying into a hankerchief after a tough day of questioning by the past officers of the GCPD. The news article saying Mr. Nashton was found guilty and put into prison. Then the following one reporting his escape and rename into "The Riddler". His descent to madness and his home-making in Arkham Asylum.

I'd be the better cop.

This was my chance.

"'Ey. Newbie." I hadn't realized how much I'd lost myself in my train of thought as Detective Bullock litterally knocked on my forehead with his knuckles. "You okay in there?"

"What?" I was still in his office. Everyone else had gone… Yet there we were.

"Oh.. Right. Yeah. I'm alright…"

"You're the new girl, right? Cunney?"  
"It's Cunnings, actually." I corrected lightly, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. "Officer Cunnings."

"Right right. Well you wanna ride with me? My partner is over on the island and well… Better two heads than one, right?"

Ugh.

Thoughts of sweet revenge and trumpets of glory faded from my head immediately as I realized I'd be stuck with none-other that Detective Bullock the rest of the night.

"Uhm… sure." How do you even say no to that? One on hand it's a great chance. A newbie riding with a well established detective? Get the hell out of town! However -this- detective?

Lord, gag me with a spoon.

"Alright. We got Center Street, everyone else has spread out to try and search high'n'low. Maybe we'll get a lead on the bombs near the sewers. I mean, Joker's not very imaginative with the placement of his explosions, in my opinion." He was already walking out the door without another glance my direction. I didn't have a chance to grab my police jacket, not that it mattered, being a warm enough summer night.

Outside, a clear sky loomed above us, unbeknownst to the danger that was below it. I glanced at the very few stars as Bullock lead me to his vehicle and helped himself into the drivers seat.

"Hey kid, we ain't got all day!"

"Right…" I murmured as I clambered into the passenger side. My mind readied myself for a mind-numbing night of listening to the barked orders of the most pompous detective on our team. However readying quickly turned into thoughts of revenge.

I could find him tonight. He was in this city, not behind the safe walls of Arkham. I could be the one that puts him in cuffs and escorts him back to that dreadful island myself. I felt my fingers twitch in anticipation at the thought. Would anyone look the other way if I gave him a few swift knees to the face?

Oh my god.

Blood left my face in the realization that the thoughts I was having… was the exact reason I -didnt- want to be a cop.

I leaned my forehead on the window to my side, feeling my headache already coming back. Why would I think things like that? Well, it's obvious -why-... Seven years of destroying my happy family life and using my mother as a puppet for who the fuck knows what… It's natrual to want to beat him to a bloody pulp - the want is fine. Actually doing it? No. I wouldn't lower myself to that.

Our drive felt like an eon of myself being lost in my own thoughts, untill finally I realize Bullock had not only parked, but had already gotten out of his side, walked over to mine, and startled me out of my brain by opening my own door.

"You get caught up in your own thoughts a lot, dontcha?" He didn't seem amused.

"Oh… sorry." I said immediately as I rushed out of the car. He just nodded at me and walked toward the entrance of the underground train system. I cocked my head to the side.

"I thought we were checking the sewers?"

"Yeah, changed my mind. Think about it, kid, what would Joker wanna destroy the most?" He stopped at the top of the steps, hands in the pockets of his trench coat, and looked back at me. I stopped mid-stride, and put a finger to my lips.

People?

"He'd wanna kill as many people as possible?" I said slowly. He shook his head annoyedly and started down the stairs.

"Yer a quick one." He quipped. I chased behind him, slowing to his pace once at his side.

"Sorry just… never really dealt with rogues before."

"You apologize a lot. Stop that." He didn't bother looking at me.

"Right."

"Look, kid. Gotham's a dog-eat-dog world. You gotta learn to deal with things like The Bat and the rogues… You may have only seen some simple stuff… but tonight - well tonights kinda your initiation-"

He was interrupted by both of our radios crackling to life.

"We have a code 3 going on, repeat a code 3. Gordan was released from Gotham by the Batman but was seen being brought back into the island by what looked like one of our guys. Requesting nearest officers to stay on stand-by in case we need onto the island-"

"That's a negative, operator, Joker said no one leaves or gets on the island tonight or he'll blow the city sky high" Bullock was quick to take charge without Gordan around, it seemed, as he snapped his orders into the radio. "We keep lookin' for the bombs, anyone near the docks, keep an eye for any dispatchers from the island. If they make the first move, then we'll aid. Until then, do what either Gordan or myself have told you to do."

There was a long silence on the line.

"Yes sir, Mr. Bullock." Finally said the woman, a tense tone of agitation in her voice. I blinked a few times at Bullock, curious as to if he was in the right.

"Are you sure you can do that?" I asked as he approached a thin-looking wall and started knocking on his with the tip of his knuckles.

"Do what?" He questioned, putting an ear against the same wall and knocking once more. I stared at him, almost dumbfounded.

We're looking for the bombs like THIS?!

"Can do order around the entire GCPD like that." I questioned. "You aren't the commissioner…"  
"Yeah, but the commissioner isn't here. And someone's gotta run things otherwise you all would be running around with yer heads in yer asses." He didn't bother glancing my direction, he just continued inspecting the wall down the way.  
I chewed my lip. The audacity of some guys in this force… No wonder many people weren't fond of him.

Still, if the commissioner wanted him around, and gave him the ability to do this then… Who was I to object?

"Don't we have like, bomb squads and dogs that can sniff these out easier?" I asked again as I walked to the other wall and mimicked what he was doing.

"We do, however they just go lookin' for normal bombs. Knowing Joker his are… different."

A cold rush immediately creeped up my spine.

"Laughing gas?!" I sounded more scared than I should have as I glanced his direction again. Bullock's back remained facing me while he worked.

"Or somethin', yeah."

We worked like that for probably an hour. Occasionally a question would pop in my head, I'd ask it, he'd answer. Some questions would earn a quick glance my direction that could only be read as "are you fucking kidding me?" before Bullock would turn back to his work at hand. I wasn't trying to start a conversation - I was just curious.

Finally, our radios once more crackled to life.

"Code 10 - we found a bomb. Requesting bomb squad immediately." It was enough for Bullock to immediately grab hold of his radio as though it were a life-line and demand

"Where?"

"Below Wayne Enterprises, sir." Said the initial voice.

"10-4, bomb squad on route. ETA is 5 minutes, repeat ETA is 5 minutes." Said the operator, calm and collected.

My feet rooted where I stood. This was real. They found a bomb. Was it going to go off? Should someone tell all the people working in the Wayne Enterprise building? Wouldn't that just cause panic?

"Come on rookie, we're heading to that building." He started walking back toward the entrance, probably a good 15 minute walk without inspecting every nook and cranny.

"Going TO it? But the bomb squad will-"

"Get a move on, rook, or yer gettin left behind!" He called. Biting my lip, I chased after him, despite the cold sweat forming on the back of my neck.

We hadn't even made it to the car when the radio crackled to life again.

"We just receive an anonymous phone call on the location of Edward Nygma, a.k.a. The Riddler. Request for closest team to apprehend the suspect. Abandoned apartment complex on Center Street."

The Riddler.

I didn't even realize I was reacting when before I knew it, my sweating fingers were clasped so hard on my radio I thought it'd break and I was saying-

"Detective Bullock and I are on Center Street right now. Apartment complex is the old Cherryville one? If so, it is in site. Will apprehend suspect on command."

I wasn't looking at Bullock, I wasn't even thinking. I was running toward that apartment complex like it was a lifeline of mine. The Riddler was_ mine_.


	5. The Second Meeting

_thank you guys for all the kind words! I'm so happy a few of y'all are enjoying reading as much as I like writing it! And without further edu, the man of the hour!_

* * *

"Cunnings! Get back here!" Bullock was yelling from behind me as the radio once more crackled to life with,

"That's a 10-4, Officer Cunnings. Riddler is said to be on the first floor in apartment C. First window on the left of the front doorway." My skin was literally itching in anticipation. There was the building, a block and a half away. Which meant I was a block and a half away from him. From the man who ruined my happy, quiet life.

A hand was suddenly on my shoulder and wheeling me around.

"First, you piss yerself at the thought of facing a rogue! Now yer goin all robot on me wanting to get this guy? Calm down, rook." He looked pissed.

"And also, never EVER go over my orders again. We're supposed to be heading to that first bomb-"

"First bomb inspected. It's a dud."

A flash of both aggravation and relief washed over Bullocks face like a rollercoaster.

"What was it?" He was immediately demanding. I just stood, knees locked, jaw tight. The Riddler. He was right there. I could apprehend The Riddler and throw his sorry ass back in Arkham.

"It was a capsule full of… well…"

Another voice cut through.

"Marzipan and kittens, sir."

"Marzi- WHAT?" Bullock could wake the entire damn neighborhood with his yell. I shushed him immediately, pointing to the building he'd just stopped me from all but running toward.

"Affirmative. Marzipan and kittens. We called a pet rescue shelter and they are in route now to inspect the felines for contamination of fear gas or any other trick the Joker might have up his sleeve."

This was wasting my time.

"10-4. We're grabbing Edward Nygma right now. Once we've apprehended him we'll be meeting you two back at the station to go over it. Requesting backup of two nearest officers for aid."

"That'll be me and Officer Hastener, sir. We will be there in five."

Radio feed went quiet. My finger was playing with my gun holster almost impulsively.

"Now?"

"Kid, you need to slow down. No playing hero here." Bullock gave me a quick glare as he also laid his hand on his gun. "And no killin the guy either."

"Yes yes, I know." My voice was quick and terse. I needed this.

"You follow my lead, alright?"

"Yes." No.

We were running toward the building as quietly as our footsteps could take us. It was easy to hear which room he was in - The Riddler - he was screaming into what looked like a microphone.

"-There is NO way you could have beaten me!" He was screaming. The two officers called for backup were approaching with their sirens blairing.

Mother. Fucker.

"Well you asked for it, Batman. My final challenge with the whole of Gotham is just seconds away…. What? Sirens? THE POLICE!" The threat against the city had both Bullock and I all but rushing into the building and against the doorway that led to him. We were both on instinct only. Follow him, my ass.

"You cheated, Batman. You couldn't have outsmarted me."

"Police! Open up!" Bullock was barking, slamming his fist on the door.

"NO!" the scream of a desperate, deranged man came.

"I said open the door, NOW!"

"To HELL with this!" I hissed, raising my right leg and kicking it with all the might and adrenaline my body could serve. Immediately, a stabbing pain raced up all the way to my hips. I ignored it, rushing into the room like my life depended on it.

The room was old, moldy. No person would live comfortably in this place. Yet all over were green, painted question marks. A few riddles were etched here and there with the same paint, and screens… So many screens. All with feeds of what looked to be…

The Island?!

"NO!" Screamed the man before me.

Mr. Nashton.

Edward Nygma.

The Riddler.

I was on him faster than my brain could comprehend. He fought me, but thanks to years of training (and the fact he wasn't the strongest of rogues), I was better. For what felt like minutes we struggled against the other, until finally I had my elbow in his cheek, the other arm holding his arms down to his side. His body was wrenched awkwardly, half on his side, half not. His torso was below mine as I was literally straddling him in order to make sure my weight kept him firmly on the ground.

"No!" He was wailing. "tell me! How did you work out where I was? Do you hear me? I, Edward Nygma" Bullock pulled the chord to the microphone the rogue was desperately screaming into, "will make sure everyone knows who is the better one between -"

"Shut UP!" I pushed my elbow harder into his face. "Shut the hell up!"

"-suspect is in custody-" above me, Bullock was barking orders into his radio, but all I saw…

All I saw was the mess below me.

Seven years were not kind to Mr. Nashton. Mr. Nygma. What was once an attractive man was now a crippling mess of a psycho. His brown hair was peppered with gray already, despite his not being over his late 30's, his skin stretched thin and almost an ashened gray color. His was skinnier, his green eyes were wide and panicky… Nothing like I'd remembered.

And what if you couldn't find better cops?

I am a better cop, motherfucker.

He finally stopped struggling against me as I screamed down at him, and limply looked up at me. Green eyes searched brown ones, a genius scanned a nobody.

"You…"

Did he recognize me?

My heart started doing flips. If I wasn't still high on the adrenaline rush, I may have felt dizzy. I just removed my elbow from his face and pulled him up roughly by his shoulders - putting us in an almost scandelous position.

"You - You wont get away with this." He finally uttered. In spite of my hate for him, my heart sank. It would have felt better for him to recognize me, and realize that after all these years -I- was finally the one putting him behind bars. I was the better cop. I was winning.

"The hell we wont." Bullock said as he crouched down to handcuff The Riddler behind his back. I slowly stood after he was cuffed, keeping the locked eye contact he had made with me.

"I'll get out, you know." He said slowly, his panic still apparant in his voice. "I'll get out, and all the … MORONS … they'll all be liquidated from this city. Im doing you all a favor. Im getting rid of idiots like you."

"Yeah yeah, and then Bat-Boy will beat you to another bloody pulp." Bullock said as he hoisted The Riddler up by his coat. "Just like every time."  
The Riddler finally released my eye contact to glare at Bullock.

"He CHEATED I tell you!" He spat. "CHEATED."

"I heard it before, lets go." He was thrusting the skinny man out the door, with me trailing behind him. With a hard push and a slap of the hands, The Riddler was in the backseat of Bullock's cop car.

"You did a good job, rook." Bullock said to me without so much as a smile. Now the adrenaline was leaving, I was in a haze. What just happened? "But next time, listen to orders."

"... Right…" I managed to murmur as I helped myself into the passenger side of the car. Bullock didn't seem to notice my fatigue as he also helped himself into the car and revved it to life.

The drive to the station wasn't a quiet one.

"What is a question you can never answer?" Riddler was done with his panic, and had taken to a comfortable… almost… planned… demeanor.

"Shut it, nut job." Bullock growled. I just rubbed my arms together, despite the heat of the night, I was feeling cold all over. My body felt like I'd just gotten done getting beaten to a pulp by the Batman himself, not arresting the very man that drove my life into the ground.

In the backseat, Riddler tutted.

The sound sent chills up my spine. Why was he suddenly so calm? He truly WAS insane.

"Now now, detective. I understand this riddle is much too hard for you… How about… What's black and white and READ all over? That one should be easy enough for you."

We were parking outside of the station now, Bullock grunted as he hoisted himself out of the car, immediately reaching for the backseat.

"It's a newspaper, ya fre-"

"Wrong!" As Bullock opened the door, his nose was met with The Riddlers head. Blood immediately spurted in both the air and in Riddlers hair. "It's you after you … heh… -face- none other than the Great Riddler!" He motioned to flee now, but another dosage of good old adrenaline had me out of the car faster than I thought I was able to move. He was near the gates when I literally dove into his back face first, bringing him and myself down to the pavement - HARD.

Under me, he was laughing. A low, rumble sound that vibrated his body. I tried picking myself up as much as I could, but the second I moved any of my bodyweight, he'd have an advantage.

"Bullock!" I screamed furiously.

Bullock was to us quickly and his big hands were on one of the arms that my body wasn't covering.

"Now, now Riddler. We don't wantcha gettin the wrong answers, do we?" He was saying as I carefully picked myself up, while immediately grabbing the other arm of the man below me.

Hoisting him up, Riddler was smirking through a bloody lip and small scratches from the fall. I noticed now that one of my pant legs had ripped open.

"Seems like your new girl can't keep her hands off me. Not that I'm surprised. Anyone would be attracted to a mind such as mine." He boasted, causing my grip on his arm to tighten.

"What did I tell you about shutting up?" I hissed immediately.

Disgusting. Pompous. Arrogant. Self-righteous…

"Oooo temper, temper officer." The Riddler nearly giggled as we dragged him toward the front doors of the station. "Someone so quick to act would only make wrong choices… And we both know how dangerous wrong choices are, don't we detective?" He rolled his head toward Bullock almost suavely. My stomach turned again as we thrusted the doors open and dragged him through.

He didn't stop yammering. Through the entire station he just kept talking. From riddles, to facts, the frequent insult to our intelligence was thrown. We just dragged him up and into the office, causing a quizical look from me to Bullock.

"He's mastered escaping the cells we have in the basement." Bullock immediately explained. "Gotta keep this guy on watch constantly until we hand him over to the asylum. Which won't be a while until we hear from Gordan."

Ugh. Please say you're kidding me.

Riddler was cuffed to a chair and sat in the middle of the room. Bullock sat me in another chair before saying,

"Watch'im. I'll get ya some coffee."  
I opened my mouth to say otherwise, but before I could Bullock was also saying,

"And rookie? Good job." and was out the door. My mouth snapped shut with a click realizing I'd been all but duped into sitting on babysitter duty with the rogue.

From his chair, still lightly bloody and bruised, Riddler's shoulders shook in a quiet laughter. I tried ignoring it - think of other things. Getting a drink or two tonight sure will be nice… Will I be able to? Speaking of going out - how was Steven? Was he dead? Was he safe? Good job keeping your mind in check, Kat. Depressing yourself is a sure good way to keep your head in the game!

"What's a police officer who get's left alone with the greatest mind in Gotham?"

Looking back at him, I saw that Riddler was deadpanning at me. A smirk played on his lips as he leaned forward the best he could, despite being cuffed to the chair.

"Do you just like the sound of your own voice?" I murmured awkwardly, placing myself on the other chair and pinching the bridge of my nose in pain.

Stiff drink. One that'll keep these damn headaches away.

"Answering a question with another question?" He tutted more. The clicks of his tongue echoing off the little walls of the office we were in. "That won't get you any answers now will it?"

I glared at him. Hard.

To think I'd day dreamed of this moment for the past seven years. I wanted to look him in the eye and say "this is for my mother, you bastard.", but he never gave me the chance. To The Riddler, I was just another simpleton in Gotham that he was better than. He'd never met me before, never asked me questions at a table, and never eaten my food.

My blood boiled.

"You can reach for it, but never grab it. Searching for it does not need eyes. However somehow the sight can be melancholy. What am I?" They were out of my mouth before I tried it. Sometimes, at night when I couldn't dream, I'd daydream over the things I would say to The Riddler when I caught him. Never did I think I'd actually be able to -use- one.

"Ah… So you -do- like Riddles, ms…?"

"What. Am. I." I repeated through grated teeth. His grin widened, a menacing twinkle forming in his eyes. He leaned back slowly, eyeing me, his brain likely working through the words faster than I'd ever thought before.

"You made this one up." He stated.

"Perhaps-"

"A lost memory." His interupted with a snap to his fingers. "You're a lost memory."  
I straightened my back and stretched my neck as I felt my jaw tighten. His voice was so smug, like he honestly felt he knew everything over everyone.

"That I am." I said slowly. "And yet still you haven't pieced it together."

"What are you talking about? I figured out your riddle very quickly! It was easy enough, even a monkey could have figured it out." he jabbered, his smug expression only causing my nails to dig into my palms as fists.

"Is that so?" I said slowly.

"So what is mine?" His eyes scanned over my face. He was enjoying my agitation. Half of me wondered if he really DID recognize me and was just toying with me this entire time. But I doubted it. Highly.

"Do I look fat in this dress? Who the hell knows, nor cares." I snapped back at him. Riddler leaned his head back in his chair and laughed. It was low and hearty, right from the belly.

"Cute." he laughed, however the following statement his laugh abruptly ended, and his voice lowered two octaves that made my skin crawl and my hand instinctively reach for my gun holster- "But not that right answer."

"I'm not here to play your games." I hissed back at him, getting to my feet and showing him that my hand was already on the holster of my gun. "Sit there and be quiet until we're able to hand you over to Arkham."

"Ohhh you really think I'll be going back there tonight, officer?"

"I said HUSH!" He was good. He knew precisely how to get under someones skin and just keep digging. But then again, maybe I had kept myself too open. It wasn't like anyone knew he was the reason I was where I was that day, never the less… Maybe I should have told my superiors with my past with this man. Hell, half of me had assumed they would have already known - with background checks and all.

"Why would I do that? There's no harm in talking, and honestly maybe -you- will learn a thing or two being around a mind such as mine. You should be greatful you've been able to so much as meet The Greatest Detective of all of Gotham: Edward Nygma."

"Which is a stupid name, mind you." I took the bait. He wanted me to keep talking. He wanted me to get riled up. He wanted me to be a bad cop. "E. Nygma? Don't you have enough damn schtick with your Riddler persona and all the stupid question marks? But you also had to legally change your name to Nygma? Not only that, who even TOOK your paperwork to change it? Or did you just threaten the people at the town office?"

"Ah… so you've read my case report, have you?"

"I don't need to Nashton." I growled back at him. Hatred ran through my veins, and yet never the less a little fifteen year old girl inside of me was telling me to be nicer to my mothers superior. An onslaught of insults and seven years of pain and suffering were about to come bubbling out of me, but Bullock decided to enter the room again with two other officers in tow, him carrying two mugs of steaming coffee.

He glanced between the two of us, Riddler relaxing in his chair with a shit-eating-smug look on his face, with me standing a few feet in front of him with one hand on the holster of my gun and the other balled up in a fist with what would probably be a red face twisted in anger. Bullock shook his head quietly and thrusted one of the mugs in my hand, I gratefully took it and took a swig before turning my back to the man in green.

"Gotta get used to people like this, Rook." Bullock said. "And you, Mr. Green, you better have been keepin' yer mouth shut."

"Oh of course, Detective… So tell me… How is your nose?" Little wads of tissue paper were stuffed up both nostrils to keep them from bleeding. Riddler seemed to have head butted him pretty good.

"Stuff it, Nygma." Bullock shot back. "Or I'll stuff you."

"Oh yes, get angry and resort to violence, just like all chimps do." Riddler chortled back. "I don't even need to feign surprise - because there is none."

"Yeah yeah, heard it before." Bullock waved him off as he took a swig of his coffee.

"No refreshments for me? Ohhh but I'm so unbelievably PARCHED." Riddler foux-pouted. He glanced my direction and gave an obnoxious wink. My response was to simply glare back and sip more on my coffee.

The night was going to be a long one.


	6. The First Contact

An hour passed, still no news from Gordan. The entire time I was stuck in Bullocks office with one or two other officers, staring at a man sitting in a chair. Some of these officers looked visibly scared of The Riddler, others looked bored. I just sat in Bullock's comfy desk-chair with my feet on the table (I'd seen him do it numerous times, not like he cared about the states property) sipping coffee, then hot chocolate to keep my mind awake.

"Ooo I have a good one for you-" The Riddler began looking at the other female police officer in the room. She was shaking. "What is sunny side up?"

"Erm... An egg?"

"Nope." The Riddler's grin turned menacing as his eyes seemed to glint in the low light of the room. "A dead cop."

"Didn't Bullock tell you to be quiet? As a matter of fact - I told you that too." I half yelled, half murmured over the desk. I knew the officer was shaking more, I could hear her breathing.

"Lydia, go get yourself some water. He's full of it, alright?" I said with a glance her direction. She nodded at me before darting out the door - leaving me once again alone with the man of the question mark.

"We have to stop meeting like this. Besides, you're way too young for me." Riddler chuckled at his own joke as he relaxed once more in the chair, crossing his legs the best he could despite them being cuffed to it. We had to cuff them earlier due to him kicking another officer in the jaw. The GCPD had enough to worry about, and were short staffed enough, we didn't need the Riddler taking us out in our own base of operations.

"Jesus can I please have a moment of peace?" I spat out.

The Riddler paused a moment before saying,

"There you go. Your moment. You didn't specify how long so I assumed seven seconds was enough for a pea-brain such as yourself."

"Big talk for a man who was caught by this pea brain." I spoke more into my cup than him. Glancing over my cup to him, I saw him tighten his jaw in a forced grin. His back straightened now, and his legs unwound and sat before him straight.

"You only caught me because The Batman cheated." The last word came out like a low, bellied growl. It was venom leaving his lips. "If he had played by the rules... None of this would be happening right now." The venom lowered his voice, like he was an entirely new person.

No. He was.

The Riddler.

The pompous ass-hole was Edward Nygma.

But this. This was the Riddler. The person who needed to kill the Batman in order to prove he was better.

My skin crawled uncomfortably up my spine as I, too, straightened myself in my chair. I tried my hardest to stare blankly back at the man before me, but from below the desk I knew my knees were shaking.

Although he wasn't much, in this state, he was mildly terrifying.

"All of Gotham would be under my control right now. You and all your pissant little friends would be dead, or better, my slaves." He continued to almost hiss my direction, his pupils were small and his body was now leaning forward in the chair as far as he could muster. He wanted fear. He needed it.

He had it.

I stood from my chair, placing my second cup of hot chocolate of the night on the table, and circled around toward him, keeping my eyes only on him the entire time. He would lean toward me, no matter where I went. My back felt tight, but straight, however my knees felt like they'd give out from under me. I fronted a brave face, and hoped he wouldn't call my bluff. Standing directly in front of him, inches away from him, I opened my mouth and only said:

"So you think The Batman is something to get away from?"

Probably to him, simple words. However I was mimicking that man from the day around the table. The day he made me realize what my calling was.

The Riddler's body softened while staring at me, and after a few seconds, he leaned back in his chair. His pupils were normal, his breathing became constant. And then there was silence. Silence while the two of us merely stared back at the other. The was no grin on his face, no cocky attitude ... Just a frowning man staring up at an equally frowning woman.

Something went off in his mind.

"Kathrine Cunnings." He suddenly said. I bowed lightly.

"At your service. Well... not yours." I responded back coldly. He didn't make a witty retaliation, just continued staring at me.

We stood like that for a few more moments, staring at one another. I didn't know what to do, nor say... So I just continued staring back.

Finally, I said,

"Do you want something to drink?" He didn't say anything, just quietly nodded. I sighed quietly to myself as I walked back to the desk and pushed the button on my radio.

"Hey Lyds, can you bring me a lukewarm hot chocolate?" There was more silence between the two of us until I heard the woman respond,

"10-4"

Jeez. Even cop speak when it's about damn cocoa.

She appeared a moment later, lukewarm cocoa in hand, and disappeared again without me saying so much as "hey could you stay here?" Typical. A GCPD officer not wanting to work? Color me surprised.

Not.

I tested the cocoa, decided it was lukewarm enough for safety, and brought it over to The Riddler. He was still cuffed, and there was no way I was enough of an idiot to take his restraints off, so I lifted it to his lips a little harshly.

The plastic cup actually bent against him as I realized I'd pushed too hard.

"Sorry. Here." I murmured. He glanced from the cup to me, before opening his mouth and letting a little drink pour down. It was a little awkward, and some of the chocolate dribbled down his chin, which of course made me wipe it clean before it dribbled on his clothes.

His skin was cold to the touch. A lite stubble scratched at my fingers every time I had to wipe dribble away, and finally he closed his mouth, showing he was done.

I took the cup away and placed it back on the desk.

"Thank you." He said quietly. I glanced back at him.

"You said you were parched." I said with a shrug.

"You tend to remember a lot, it seems."

"Eh... I'm lost in my head a lot. So it happens." I tried making it nonchalant. It wasn't like I could say - 'oh you know, I've been obsessed with your sorry ass the past seven years so I could have revenge on you for what you did to my family'.

More awkward silence.

"Could I have a little more?" He suddenly asked. Without speaking, I brought the cup back over, and we repeated the dance that was his drinking. This time though, as I motioned to rubs some dribble off his chin, his face suddenly lowered and before I could react he was biting down on my finger - HARD.

"You asshole!" I screamed in reaction as I ripped my finger out of his mouth. Cocoa went flying - covering the both of us in a brown mess. On my finger were four little teeth indents. No blood was drawn, but I knew a mouth-shaped bruise would be in place the next morning.

The Riddler was smirking at me, his cocky expression back in place as he peered at me with his beady eyes.

"The answer to my initial riddle is, a moron. A police officer left with the greatest mind in Gotham is a moron for falling for such a simple little retaliation." And then he braced himself. I could visibly watch as he braced himself for some sort of ... impact?

Oh my god.

He was expecting me to hit him!

More blood boiled. For a split second I considered doing it, but that would just make him win. I just ambled over to the desk, and noisily sat down in the chair as I glared as hard as I could over at the rogue. His eyes peeked open when he heard my sit, and when he saw where I was, he looked more intrigued than disappointed.

"So... you're trying to be the better cop, eh?"

"Please... please be quiet." I murmured as I rubbed my sore finger and inspected the bit marks. "Just please be quiet."

Of course he wasn't.

More riddles, occasionally an idea to "end the bat", sometimes he would sit and talk about the weather.

Finally, as I felt I was at my wits end, I called for someone else to come and babysit the lunatic. Another two officers came, and I helped myself out of Bullocks office to my own to sit and enjoy the quiet, that and put a band-aid on my finger to help me feel better. As I stepped out of the cage that held Edward Nygma, he called to me,

"Tell your mother I said hello!"

With my head now laying on my desk, I let a small sigh of relief escape my lips. What an asshole. I try to be nice to him and what does he do? Bites me like a damn caged animal. So much for brightest mind in Gotham. He's just as insane as all the other residents of Arkham.

Why -did- I give him a drink, anyway? I mean he did say he was parched, and his lips looked so... needy. They were thin and blended with the rest of his face so muchI wouldn't have been able to see lips at all if they weren't so chapped. They were lined with cracks and one side honestly, was bruising up, thanks to yours truly and the tackle to the ground. So when I looked at his lips he just looked like he could really use some nice cocoa right about then and...

I lifted my head from my desk and let it fall again to give me a rude wake up call.

"You are a grown-ass-woman. Stop thinking like a teenager." I scolded myself as I fidgeted in my own seat.

And I berated myself... Wait ... why are you chuckling? You shush it now or I'll stop telling you the story. Yes, I was still quite taken with Edward Nygma. You tell me you wouldn't still ravish your first crush ever, hmm? Not only was he still the same man but he needed -fixing-, and we all know how much women love fixing things. So you stop your giggling otherwise I'm done talking.

That's better.

I berated myself for being a 21-year-old woman, capable of so many things, yet still caught in the hornets nest that's a 15-year-old crush. Yet there I was, possibly making a goose egg on my forehead from re-smashing my head on my own desk, day dreaming about some lunatics lips.

Needless to say, it wasn't comfortable.

I must have dozed off at my desk because before I knew it, I was waking up to a dull, throbbing pain shooting through my leg. With a hiss I sat straight and grabbed hold of the thigh instinctively, wanting nothing more than to rip off the entire thing and be done with it.

Through my pant-leg, I could see my knee had swollen up two sizes too big. I growled to myself, realizing I probably had really fucked something up when I had kicked the door in at The Riddler's hide-out. The adrenaline had kept me from feeling anything. However, a nap at my desk ensured the adrenaline rush would leave, meaning now I was aware of the steadily worsening leg injury.

I wasn't a doctor, I couldn't tell what I'd done to it, but I did know it was painful to the touch. Putting pressure on it was mind-numbingly destructive. I was still poking and prodding it when Bullock appeared at my doorway -

"Hey rookie, wanna come with me ta- wow what'd you do to yer leg!?"

I gave him a quick glare before explaining,

"Probably from when I kicked the door in."

He nodded with a small "hmmm" as he made his way over to me.

"Think ya can stand?"

"Yeah.. I think so."

Despite our size difference, Bullock thrust himself under my arm and hoisted me up, making himself a crutch to my bad leg.

"I was gonna ask ye if you wanted to accompany me to escort The Riddler to Arkham, but with your injury..."

"Gordan is safe from the island?"

"Wow... how long were you out? You can't be nappin on the job. At least, you can't get caught doin' it." Bullock started walking me out the door like I weighed nothing.

"Yeah, Gordan's back and safe. Already on a case with the Two-Faced freak trying to rob a bank. Which means I need to take Riddler back to his happy loony bin."

"I'd love to go."

"Negative, not with that leg."

"But I'd really like to-"

"What you need is to see a doctor." Bullock snapped. I couldn't help but shrink at him. He was my superior in multiple ways, and right now I was just too tired to fight anything back. Although I would love to see The Riddler off to Arkham... I just couldn't do it right now.

He was hoisting me out the door when I saw him - The Riddler. He was being escorted into the back seat of a police car. For a moment, we locked eyes. He registered who I was, glanced at Bullock, then my hobbling leg, then back to my eyes.

I wanted to look away. I wanted to never see him again. I got my revenge, it was over. But I kept staring, and I saw the small crease of a grin form over his lips and another quick wink at me.

"Officer Cunnings " He suddenly called out, "What do they do to a horse with a broken leg?!"

Not much of a riddle.

They shoot it.


	7. The Meeting

_Heeeey guys! I know so far this isn't incredibly OC/Riddler, but it'll happen, I promise. I'm just trying to make it as realistic as possible. I mean... Riddler IS insane afterall.  
__Anywho, thank you all for the kind words, per usual. Your reviews are what inspires me to keep going!_

* * *

I was on paid medical leave for two weeks, and desk duty for three. A fractured bone takes a lot out of you, and the work to get better after it is even more of a pain in the ass. However, it wasn't all for naught, Bullock surprisingly boasted up and down in the station about how the rookie cop took down The Riddler. Many of my fellow officers delivered candies, flowers, and even take-out food on many of my days off, my partner, Steven, would stop by every lunch and tell me all the gossip that was mucking about. Hell, even the Commissioner stopped by to tell me what a good job I did.

Its sad to say, but it felt damn good. I wasn't the best cop by any means, but to be awarded so much by my peers made me feel like I was back in high school, being told my cooking was delicious.

My mother called me up, hearing that I'd had a run-in with none other than Mr. Nashton. She fawned over me like a mother hen.

"Are you sure you're alright? And he's back in Arkham? He didn't hurt you?"

Oh he hurt me alright. And got in my head. Damn thing.

The only downside to it all was the dreams. More often than not, they were full of skin-on-skin, lips crashing together, and a warmth that only lovers know. I would wake up agitated and my leg throbbing as a casual reminder that: news flash, you just had an erotic dream about a maniac that would kill you before he'd so much as touch you.

Still, the dreams continued. It was just an ongoing battle between my subconscious and myself.

"Couldn't stay away, could ya?" Steven slapped me on the shoulder the first day I was back for desk duty. I just gave him a small smile as I set my pencil down and glanced his direction.

"Shouldn't I say the same to you? You could have taken more time off than a week. You went through more than me."

"Bah, I didn't tackle a damn rogue to the ground!" He laughed lightly as he took his seat across the room at his own desk, but turned to face me instead. "I just hung out in a room until The Batman came to our aid... and then hung out even longer."

"Still, that must have been worse than anything imaginable." I said as I faced him as well. "Weren't you scared?"

"Petrified. Oh man though, The Batman was probably the scariest thing in there! He was so tall and... built" Steven puffed his chest out comically. "Like a damn body builder or something."

"I'd imagine he works out - I mean he IS The Batman." I said with a smile as I lightly rubbed my bad leg. "And anyway, you didn't see any rogues?"

"Nah. Just a bunch of thugs from Blackgate. That's about it." He waved his hand dismissively. "And you - little miss rogue taker... What was he like?"

"Who?"

"... Your father. The Riddler of course!" He was leaning on his knees toward me, a happy, open smile on his face. We hadn't bothered speaking of the night until now.

"Oh... You know I'd met him before."

"No, you met Edward Nashton before." he corrected. "Come onnnn, what was he like?"

I snorted.

"Pompous."

"I coulda told you that."

"What else am I supposed to say, Steven? He was annoying as all hell. Never shut up."

"Heard he threatened you when he was being taken to the island."

My head perked.

"He what?"

"He said it to your face. Or were you so out of it in pain you didn't notice? He said he was gonna come and shoot ya." My mind boggled as my eyebrows furrowed at my partner. When did he say that?

Oh. The horse comment.

"That wasn't a threat." I said quickly. "He was just trying to get under my skin more." Steven was shaking his head immediately at me with a small smile.

"Naw, come on, man... Haven't you read his file? He never out-right threatens people, you know. It's all in his riddles! One time, he asked a doctor what implement can be produced from potassium, nickel and iron... And you know what the answer was?"

I looked at the ceiling in thought.

"I was never good at science." I finally said. Steven was getting excited, like he was talking about a new TV show he was really into.

"Think about it. Their codes are K, N lower case i, F lower case e... And that spells...?"

"Uh... say it again without the lower cases." I said slowly. He looked at me like there was something growing on my face, or that I was a moron.

"... K, n, i, f, e."

"So knife." I said as I leaned in my chair and stretched my back.

"And you know what happened when she solved it?" He was leaning really far forward now. He looked like a kid telling a spooky story.

"She got.. a knife?"

"In her back! He had broken out of Arkham just to stab her to death!" Steven's voice had risen to an excited yelp now, a few passer bys were peeking in our office with quizzical looks.

"Hush your voice." I said as I tried giving apologetic looks to them all. "And either way, that's so bull."

"Why so?" Steven gave a pout. "It's true, I was told by Collins."

"For one, Collins tells lots of bogus stories. For two, Riddler doesn't just -kill- people. He puts them in stupid traps and lets them try to figure out if they live or not." I folded my arms at him, a slight agitation creeping up my spine. To believe such a stupid story would be ... well... stupid.

"Well then he put her in some sort of machine with a knife! Either way, she died." Steven said with a huff. "It's in his file. Really!"

"Yeah, I'm sure." I muttered as I turned back to my chair. "Just like your idea that Batman is actually half bat."

"Well after meeting him I don't think that... However I bet he's some sort of illegal luchador wrestler!"

"Oh please." I crumpled some paper and threw it at him. "What is with you and your crack-pot theories?"

"Makes the job easier, I suppose." Steven shrugged his shoulders and turned back to his desk. "Besides, doing paperwork all day gets boring."

"You can say that again-"

"Doing paperwork all day gets-"

"I didn't mean literally!" I threw another paper wad at him, causing Steven to laugh lightly.

"You're too tense, Kat. Gotta take this job with a grain of rice, otherwise you'll end up just like the loons at Arkham." I snorted at him.

"Hardly."

"Officer Cunnings-" I was cut off by an older man coming to my doorway. His white hair was slicked to the side and a deep frown caused even more creases than usual on his face.

"Oh! Commissioner. Hello." I yelped awkwardly at him. His face always felt so stone-set. A permanent frown unless his daughter came bouncing around. Ugh. His daughter. Despite my wanting to, I cringed at the idea of her coming around. Everyone seemed to eat out of the palm of her hand and she was so damn -perfect- at everything.

"Afternoon." He said with a nod before tossing a newspaper on my desk. "Know anything about this?"

On the front with big, blocked letters read "Riddler: Having An In With The GCPD?", and below it a picture of...

My skin immediately crawled as my blood ran cold. Because of the angle that the picture was taken of...

That son of a bitch.

-I- knew what it was of. It was when I tackled the asshole to the ground in his lair. However thanks to a well-placed camera, it just looked like a female cop on top of the Riddler, almost straddling him sexually.

My face was an immediate deep shade of red as I jumped to my (painful) feet with a,

"Sir, that is obviously not what it looks. Bullock can back me up with-"

"I know, I know." Gordan waved his hand lightly to show he wasn't too terribly worried with me. "I just wanted to make sure you knew about this. Clearly you don't."

I glanced back down at the picture. My face wasn't shown, however you could see brown hair pulled in a bun and a feminine figure in the uniform. How long would it take for people to realize who it was?

"I'm so sorry commissioner." I bowed my head in embarrassment. "I didn't know there was a camera..."

"I wouldn't think you'd think of that. Hell, not many people think when they're in the middle of an arrest of a rogue. Still, I want you to keep a tight lip on this. If anyone asks - it wasn't you." I nodded dumbly at him.

"Wasn't me. Right... but it wasn't! Well I-I mean it wasn't anything along these lines and-"

"It just flat out wasn't you. You've never touched the Riddler short of arresting him. Clear?"

"Yes sir."

Steven was approaching behind me and looking down at the paper.

"Phoooooo Kat! Look at that. Never thought your ass could look good, huh?" He tried to lighten the mood of the room with a quick swat to my behind, just making my face grow redder as my chin dipped so low it touched my chest.

"Aww come on, I was joking" He tried saying as he laid a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, Commissioner. I've got my eye on this horn dog."

"Good. And keep jokes like that away from prying ears." The Commissioner stated before leaving our doorway.

We stood like that, quietly for a few seconds, before Steven said:

"Well. That's a little fucked up, huh?"

A little?

"I'm going for a ride." I said flatly. He walked after me as I hobbled on my cane (yep, got one of them amazing things) out our door.

"To where?"

"Visiting a certain Mr. Nygma." I growled deep in my throat. He was behind this. I knew he was.

"Gordan probably doesn't want you doing that..." Steven started which just made me stop in my tracks and give him an icy glare. "Right. Right. I'll uh... I'll just cover the paperwork here then. You'll have to start at the front desk you know."

"I don't need the obvious explained to me." I mumbled back as I hobbled my way toward the front door of the GCPD and to my car.

The drive to the boat was a fast one, but the wait for the boat ride took a bit longer. In my waiting, my cell phone went off. I.D. read "Commissioner." I frowned, knowing if I didn't answer, I'd lose my job. Even THIS douche wasn't worth all my years of hard work. I answered it with a quick swipe on it's face and murmured a -

"Hello?"

"Figured you'd be questioning him. Listen, I have one of my best guys on stand-by. So if you meet any trouble... just call me. You don't need to say anything, just a call and I'll send him over."

"Best guy?" I leaned against my car as I watched the gentles waves on the harbor. "Why?"

"Because Arkham is damn dangerous. I wanna find out why he did it as much as you did."

"This is... out of characteristic of you, Commissioner." I saw a boat approach, the one that would take me to the island of hell.

"I just want answers, Cunnings. Get them." He hung up abruptly, making me look at my phone all but bewildered.

Alright. Game on. I can do this.

With a hobble and half a skip, I boarded the little ferry and got comfortable on one of the benches. A few people, most looked to be doctors, disembarked and boarded. A few gave me a strange and worried look, one man sat next to me and asked a nervous,

"No one has escaped, have they?"

"Not that I know of. And if they had, I wouldn't be heading your direction." I said dryly as I motioned to the cane. He nodded slowly, clearly not content with my answer.

The ferry ride was restless. A few were reading that same news paper (then again, everyone read Gotham Times, didn't they?) and a few actually had the gal to ask me if I knew who it was that was in cohorts with The Riddler. I just laughed and said whoever it was, they were a moron to want to be around such an egotistical idiot. It made some of the doctors, clearly the ones who were familiar with Mr. Nygma, smile and nod in agreement.

Finally, we made it to the island, and the first doctor pointed me in the direction of the front office. I strolled the best I could, fronting a strong face the best I could with my cane, until I reached the front doors. Above them, I could see the remnants of what seemed to be a clown face. I couldn't help but grimace at the site... It was... Eerie.

Inside I was asked for identification, asked for my weapons, and placed in a visitors room complete with booths that had bullet-proof Plexiglas and phones between them for safe communication. I actually knew the guard on duty, he being an old cop from the GCPD, and we maintained some idle chit chat while Arkham staff seemed to retrieve my inmate.

Finally, donning a white straight jacket and no hint of green on him, the Riddler sat before me on the other side of the glass. If he looked haggard before, he looked near death now. His skin looked grayer in sickness and his hair was standing on all ends, a few knots clearly forming. He was oily and sweaty, his glasses dipped on the edge of his nose, one lens was cracked.

I watched him for a few moments as he silently stared back at me. There was no content grin, no cocky personality. There was a shell. A broken, little shell.

Finally, I pressed the hands free button and asked for privacy from my guard. He nodded, and helped himself to the other side of the door, peering in through the glass just in case.

With another long inhale of breath, I looked back at the disaster before me.

"How'd you do it?"

My voice seemed to wake something in him. Suddenly his eyes seemed to realize I was there, and he bore into me like a lion watches it prey. A lopsided grin formed on his thin lips, and his body relaxed.

"Ahh... Kat."

"That's Officer Cunnings." I corrected. "You didn't answer my question."

"Hmm? What's that? I didn't hear... Let's see... What has four legs, three legs, then finally two legs?" He was babbling lazily, enjoying the sound of his voice. "because it looks like you're on three." His eyes glanced from my cane to me, making me scowl all the more.

"Stop it, Nashton. Tell me how you did it... and -why-... and I'll be out of your hair."

"Mmm? I'm afraid I'm still not following." He mocked at me, cocking his head to one side. "Did you just miss me, is that it? Next time you'll have to bring me some of your home-cooked meals."

"Where was the camera and who is your informant?" I snapped at him while leaning forward. The Riddler just laughed... deep and low.. Straight from the belly.

It made my own belly do flip flops.

"Oh come on now. You must not have read the article if you can't tell why I did it." He said jovially. "Maybe if you read it... THEN you'd know. Instead of jumping to all sorts of conclusions and raising more suspicion on everyone here. You -are- a female GCPD officer you know."

I opened my mouth to speak, but snapped it shut. I tried to think of a response, but all that came out was-

"You're an asshole."

"Ahhh insults. The exact thing shaved monkeys resort to when they've been beaten."

"Beaten my ass. From the looks of it, -you- are the one being beaten. What, Bat getting under the skin?"

I struck a nerve.

Good.

His eyes immediately widened, and he launched his body forward almost in an assault. Good thing there was glass between us, but his forehead still came in contact with it. Looked like a nice goose egg would be forming.

"You act so damn smug with the protection of the Batman looming over your head, aren't ya?" That voice. It was the same as the time he lost it in Bullock's office. The true voice of the Riddler. I simply leaned back and folded my arms. Despite the extreme fear my mind was going through, I had to keep my cool.

"And if I am?"

"Find my riddle, little Kat. Or your sad little three legs are going to become one." He hissed, but already his side of guards had been informed of his head butt to the glass. Two strong looking men were grabbing each side of him and tugging him back, away into the depths of the asylum.

I just sat, jaw tight, knees shaking.

He'd just threatened me.

For real this time.


	8. The Card

_SUPER short update today guys, sorry! Been busy with work and all that jazz. I promise the next one will be longer and of course will be full of good Riddler-ness!_

* * *

There was no riddle.

For weeks I milled over that newspaper article, filling a once empty notebook full of ideas and what seemed to be hints. But there was nothing. It wasn't as though I were the smartest cookie in the box, but still, after going over it countless times... I found nothing.

My leg was better, I was back on the field. Rookies below even me started joining the force... I never realized how much we really lost that night of the Arkham Asylum incident. Yet five spry young police officers were being trained up from below me. All of them were so excited to do the city some justice - to truly keep Gotham safe.

Looking at them made my stomach roll in on itself.

News of a new jail for Gotham spread like wild fire. Mayor Sharp announced it would finally keep everyone safe, everyone in a state of harmony away from rogues, thugs, and the like.

Then the announcement of Arkham City came.

I was sitting on my couch, second cup of coffee in the space of fifteen minutes, my old "riddle" article splayed out in front of me. The mayor went on to explain how Arkham City would finally keep the rogues away from the Gotham citizens and out of trouble. However, my stomach immediately dropped. How would this keep us safe? It would simply put the criminals in danger! Put them all in a pot full of anger and what do you get? Death. Death of any sort of criminal too. From just a shoplifter, to a rapist, to rogues...

Oh no.

The Riddler.

Despite my want, an immediate worry crept up my spine at the thought of Mr. Nashton being thrown in a city of chaos. He was no where near as strong as most inmates of BlackGate Prison, much less the other rogues of Arkham Asylum. He's managed to survive by wit alone (and a touch of insanity), but him getting thrown in the middle of a clusterfuck of crime?

I rubbed my face worriedly.

He'd die out there.

It wasn't as though I cared for him. I mean, sure, he was attractive, and the feel of his warmth still ebbed at me on cold, dark nights. Sometimes I still thought of his thin lips and dark hair... Plus his eyes... So full of information and longing for the truth of the world.

"Wow. Stop it." I told myself as I hit myself in the head lightly. "Jesus. I need to get laid or... something. Day dreaming about a rogue..."

I tried to dismiss it, yet still the thought of Mr. Nashton being put in that place...

No. Not Mr. Nashton. Mr. Nashton is no more. There's the Riddler, Edward Nygma. They were two very different people.

... Weren't they?

"Jesus! I need out of my own brain." I said to no one at all as I got up to put my dirty dish away.

I was dropping my coffee in the sink when I heard it: the distinct sound of my window opening. The hairs on the back of my head stuck up on end as the immediate thought of that night with the Scarecrow came to mind.

No. That's silly. He's dead. Batman saw him be eaten by Killer Croc during the Arkham Incident.

I didn't have my gun. I leaned against the wall, heart pounding as fast as a jack rabbit. Peering around wall that separated my kitchen and my living room, I saw ...

Nothing.

I let out a sigh of relief as I chastised myself for over-worrying myself. I got up from my knees and walked out to the living room to grab my paper when I saw it.

A green card. With a question mark on it.

My spine was shot through with uncomfortable tingles.

No. That isn't possible.

I must have stood and stared at it for a while, until finally I realized he could be -in- here, watching me. Heart racing once more, I backed myself against a wall and looked around my surroundings.

Nothing.

I checked my bedroom, the bathroom,even my guest room.

No one.

Slowly, I re approached the card and slowly picked it up. Inside, written in black sharpie marker read,

"Have you figured out my riddle?"

I dropped the card like it burned me. How did he? Wasn't he in?

I tried putting a brave face on, more for myself than anything, and grabbed the card with my article and stuffed it into my bag. Out the door I went to the police station - just to ask Gordan for permission back into Arkham Asylum.

An hour rolled by, and I was already disembarking from the boat with Steven trailing behind me. He'd been complaining the last hour about my not telling him about the threat from The Riddler.

"I mean, we're partners! I even told you when my fiance cheated on me!" He was repeating again in a whiny tone. "I just don't see why you kept this from me, Kat. We gotta be open with each other."

"As much as I -adore- listening to you complain, we've got a job to do, Steven." My voice was terse, so very done with all of this nonsense.

I was just a cop. I was a normal woman. Why was he going after me? I had no super-agile abilities, I couldn't build power suits or weapons, hell, I couldn't even figure out this supposed riddle he left for me in a news article from weeks ago.

Despite my shaking hands, Steven and I marched up to the visitor's center for the asylum, wrote our names in, and waited. Once more, the guard was someone we both knew, however when he asked for a little more information we both had to get tight-lipped and merely state "classified, sorry bud."

I don't know how long I waited. My brain was buzzing and my knees were shaking under the divider. All I kept thinking was, why and how? There was no need to mess with me. Lots of cops caught the Riddler, I was just one of them. Just one of them.

Finally, out was brought Mr. Nygma. Despite his past appearances... he looked ... well... normal. His skin was a healthy shade of peach and his brown hair was slicked back (though without the use of gel, it seemed to hang limply around his face). His blue eyes looked lively and sparkly as he all but bounced down in his chair with his straight jacket around his arms.

"If it isn't my favorite officer!" He said jovially, "So I assume you got my message?" And then his eyes wandered over to Steven. "Who's that?"

"This is Officer Smith." I explained slowly. "He's my partner." The Riddler stared through his glasses at the man beside me, judgement plastered on his face in multiple ways than one.

"So you monkeys work in groups now?" He leaned back, trying to get comfortable despite the straight jacket.

I sighed.

"Look, I'm not here to answer you're questions. I'm here for you to answer mine." I grabbed the card from inside my bag and lifted it up for him to see.

"How did you get this into my apartment?"

"Ahhh that would be spoiling the riddle then, wouldn't it Miss Kat?" He said with a lopsided smirk. "I would assume that means you -haven't- figured out the article, have you?" I furrowed my eyebrows in a frown, I could taste blood from chewing too hard on my bottom lip. There was silence between us, until The Riddler leaned back in his chair with a low chuckle.

"How disappointing. I had hoped you'd be more than just a shaved ape. But then again, I was expecting to much from you... I -do- know your mother after all."

"Don't bring her into this." I snapped back. "You know she's been working for-" And I stopped, making Steven raise a brow at me. I bit my lip more, and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"Then what is the riddle, I ask you?" I tried changing the subject, Steven gave a curt nod as backup. The Riddler just smiled between the two of us.

"Really? It's so simple. Even you should be able to get it."

I frowned.

"I could just get Batman to figure it out."

"Ohhh-hohoho" Riddler laughed more, straight from the belly. His shoulders shook and his head fell backwards. "I figured you'd try getting a rise out of me like that again. Insanity is doing something over and over and expecting different outcomes, hmm? Maybe you're going a little insane..."

"That doesn't even make sense-" Steven started saying as I lifted a hand to silence him.

"Then give me a hint."

"So you can cheat? I think not." Riddler tilted his head to the side again, his expression almost... flirtatious.

My stomach flipped.

"It's not cheating if you help me out a little." He thought about it, slow and hard, until he finally said,

"Make some Italian tonight. Linguine! I'll give you a hint over dinner."

Pause. More Pause. Even longer pause of silence. It wasn't really registering what he was saying in my head.

"Is that a threat?!" Steven was standing beside me now, hands in fists. I reached up and put a hand on his shoulder.

"If I refuse?"

"Well then I guess we can just go to that little Italian restaurant in town... I was just talking to my therapist about it, how I'd love to go there."

Steven hadn't sat down yet. I felt like I was underwater as I tried to figure out the correct response to this all.

"... And if police are stationed in my apartment?"

"You'll have to hide me then, if you want my help." His answers were so matter-of-fact. Like I was a moron for not knowing.

Steven and I exchanged glances between each other. Steven's face was hard looking, creases in his forehead from frowning so hard and his eyes were downcast.

"This is idiotic." he finally said as he tried to take a step away.

...I stopped him.

"Steven." I said quickly. Composing myself, I glanced back at the rogue sitting behind the glass. He was very amused by what was going on in front of him. "Steven... wait. He's playing with you. He does that from time to time." I shot a glare, and Riddler gave a mock hurt face complete with a pouty lip. "Don't take what he says to heart."

And then I did something stupid.

Turning back to the Riddler I said,

"I'll make fettuccine tonight with linguine. I'll set a spot for two."

Half of my was lightly teasing.

The other half started making a grocery list in my head.

* * *

_For those of you who haven't listened to the case files of The Riddler in Arkham City, he totally refers to them with his Italian restaurant he told his therapist about. Woooo continuity! _


	9. The Dinner

_Sorry it's been a bit, guys! Once again suuuuper busy due to the holidays and whatnot! However I finally was able to sit down and write some more out. I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this... sooooo hopefully it's somewhere good? Yes. let's hope._  
_Thank you again for the reviews! They fill my heart with ALL of the joy! Please continue reviewing 3_

* * *

It took me the rest of the work day, a lot of begging, and finally the blind trust of Arkham's guard system to talk Steven out of going home with me that night. After all, we would hear if an inmate escaped. It would hit the news faster than any celebrity death ever has. That's just how important the rogues were to the news reporters in this city.

However, despite my words of comfort of keeping the Riddler held true behind the walls of Arkham, I still found myself buying all the materials to make a nice, Italian dinner. Chuckling to myself, I realized how silly it was for me to be doing this. But still, Italian -did- sound nice, didn't it?

My night was quiet - the way I liked it. I popped the news on for static noise in my small apartment while I went to work making the pasta meal. I had finally found comfort in Arkham being able to control their inmates until a knock came to my door.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Sprinting from my kitchen to the door, I didn't even bother to look through the peep hole as I thrust open the walkway and reaching to grab what I thought would be my assailant by the scruff of the collar.

Instead, Steven hung in my vice grip.

"...I was worried." He just said. Making me immediately drop him and run a shaking hand through my hair.

"Jesus, Steven!" I said shakily as I leaned against the door frame. "You couldn't have called first?"

"In case he had you held at gun point, no." He gave me a smirk and stuffed his hands in his pockets almost bashfully.

"You're such an asshole." Was all I said.

"Next time I come saving your life I promise to call in advance."

"Thanks." I said dryly. "well I'm about to eat dinner so..."

"...Do I smell" He started sniffing the air, "Fettuccine?" His smirk became a frown, "You were actually anticipating the guy, weren't you?" Despite my want, my face flared up in a blush.

"I was planning this for dinner before I even suggested it to him." I copped out badly. "Besides, always better to be safe than sorry..."

"You were really gonna take him head on, alone, weren't you?"

"What? No." I glared back at Steven. "Don't be so ridiculous. This is -all- ridiculous, Steven - go home to your wife and calm down. No Riddler is gonna pop out of the shadows and kill me."

Steven re-adjusted his coat and looked me up and down warily.

"We're partners, you know."

"I'm not planning on taking him out alone!" I was getting exasperated.

"...Alright." He adjusted his jacket again and began to turn around. "I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

"Alright." I said back. I closed the door before he could say more. A sigh of exhaustion left my lips as I leaned on the door by my forehead. This was all getting too much.

Tiredly, I hobbled toward my kitchen.

"Well, he's a nice one, isn't he?"

No.

No damn way.

No. Damn. Way.

And there he was, eating the fettuccine directly out of the pot I'd just finished it off in.

"I wanted to try a morsel, couldn't bother myself finding a plate. Figured you'd be a good house guest and get it for me."

Green pants. White shirt. Green tie. Green Blazer with yellow question marks all over it. And a green bowler hat.

The Riddler.

He was here.

I motioned to sprint toward the door when the direction was blocked by a cane the shape of a question mark. He hooked my chin with its end and faced me toward him.

"Ah-ah, it doesn't look like there's enough for three." He said coyly. "Now come, won't you be a good host?"

My mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. The feeling of cotton balls lining my throat smothered me as I went on auto-pilot to retrieve plates and utensils. Before I knew it I was setting a plate full of pasta in front of the Riddler, who sat at my small table in my kitchen.

"Well this smells delicious, tasted good too! Now sit, sit. If I'm to help your poor little brain wrap around a riddle made by yours truly, this may very well take the entire meal! Or longer." I sat numbly, staring at him with wide eyes while my brain tried to figure out escape routes. I tried to eat my own bowl, but I could no longer taste it. All the while, The Riddler watched me.

"Is my presence so large that it brings you to discomfort?" He had his fingers folded together, his chin resting on his hands contently, a smirk was on his thin lips. "You used to pine after my attention, you know."

"That was a long time ago." I snapped back as I shoveled more of the fettuccine down my throat and forced myself to swallow.

"Was it? Doesn't feel as such." He lifted his head and tapped his chin. "Hmmm how many years..."

"Seven." I responded dryly. "Seven years."

"Well, well... time flies when you're working so hard on a goal."

"Which is?"

"Well, to save Gotham of course." I tilted my head at him, an eyebrow quirking up at his response.

"You kill people if they can't answer a riddle."

"Exactly. I'm weeding out the incompetent. So glad you see my visage." He reached over the table and gave my head a pat before finally digging into his food. "But it looks like in the years you've gotten better at cooking. Good. At least you have something to be useful with."

Gritted teeth, fists clutching my knees.

"Now. Onto the riddle!" In the middle of the table he slapped my old copy of the article. "Looks like you've found... well nothing. Shame, really. Come on, did you even look at the picture?"

"The picture?" My face flared up as I glanced from the picture to his face. The picture that made it look like we were...

intimate.

"No. I didn't bother."

"And that's where you lose." He tutted his tongue at me. "You need to look over everything for a riddle to find an answer. I mean, did you really think a riddle from -my- brilliant mind would be easy?" He loved tooting his own horn. I just wanted him to shut up.

"Come now, look at this photo - REALLY look at it." He thrust the article at me, causing me to flinch in response.

It seemed like the same old photo, the one that I would avoid looking at on the dark, lonely nights. Still, it did occasionally pop in my head and...

Jesus. I need to get laid. By someone not insane and in a question marked adorned jacket.

"What about it..?" I mumbled quietly as I tried to cover my face with the entire paper. I still saw nothing. Limbs intermingled, his hands were over his head - I was holding them there. Damn, it really looked like...

Stop it, Kat. Just stop it. This is simply -insane-!

He'd circled around the table now, and pointed a finger-less gloved finger at a section in the photo - over past where my hands held his down to the floor.

"Look here. What do you see?"

I could feel his breath on my cheek. His hands steadied himself on the back of my chair as he leaned down closer.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.

"Er... eh..." And I looked, despite my , on one of the computer screens there was something I'd not quite seen before.

57R4263

"A code?"

"Ah, so you -do- see it, just choose to ignore it?" A low chuckle came from his throat, I could feel the light vibrations due to his proximity. I felt my own skin tingle in ... anticipation? A 15 year old in me was squealing like a pig.

"Yes, I see it."

"Lovely. Then figure it out." He moved away from me then, and motioned to move back to his seat, making me sigh in relief.

But the sound made him stop in his tracks.

Looking back at me, his eyes went over my entire face. A small smirk played his lips, as he slowly grabbed the armrest of my chair and slid it to the side, to make me face him.

"Tell me Kat..." he started as he put his other hand around the other armchair, trapping me to my seat. He leaned forward, green eyes boring into mine. "Does being so close to people make you... uncomfortable?" Dominance. He was trying to assert his dominance. I jutted my chin out to make a strong-face, front that I was much more stronger than I really am.

"I don't know what you mean." I lied. His smirk widened as he looked me over, his right hand left the armchair and reached to touch my hair. The dark strands mingled in his fingers as he continued to invade my personal space.

"You look so little like your mother." He said quietly. "I would suppose that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Once again, I don't know what you mean." I tersely said back. He tilted his head playfully in thought.

"Mmm. You don't know. Surprise there."

He was warm. I could feel his body heat again. Always so warm and inviting and...

And he was back in his seat, munching on our dinner that was slowly growing cold.

I blinked my eyes a few times, trying to collect myself from the dizzying reaction he somehow had over me.

"So." He was saying, some food already in his mouth, "Five, Seven, Are, Four, Two, Six, Three. Has your little mind been able to wrap around it, yet?" I turned my head to look at him, opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then dumbly just shook my head.

"Pity." He said, almost looking bored now. "Well, I suppose you shouldn't just be offed on your first try. Let's just say you owe me another dinner, hmm? Until you can solve it, that is."

"...You're going back to Arkham, you know."

"Am I? Do you want me going back?" Despite his usual gentlemanly manner, he didn't seem to have much table manners as he continued to talk through his food. But then again, this may be his first home-cooked meal in some time.

I righted my chair to face him and once more began to eat my own plate of food.

"You're a criminal who escaped. It's not whether I want or not - I have a duty to upkeep."

"Ahhh well who's to say they'll catch me? I mean, you could handcuff me right now, and yet here we are enjoying dinner."

I frowned at him.

"You get this time, Riddler."

"Because you're curious."

"Curiosity kills the cat."

"Oh we both know that. Which makes this far more interesting, doesn't it?... Oh, and feel free to call me Edward."

I blinked at him stupidly.

"What?" I almost choked on my food when I asked.

"Edward. It's my name, you know. Only The Batman really calls me Riddler. I call you Kat, why not call me Edward. Formalities and such-"

"We aren't friends." I interrupted, not liking the chumminess that was forming.

"I never implied we were. But I insist, call me Edward." I looked him up and down, trying to see if he was up to anything... But there he sat, still munching his fettuccine like it was the best thing he'd ever had, messy hair standing on all sorts of ends (how bowler hat had been left on the counter before the meal), his glasses glinting in the small, yellow light of my kitchen.

"Alright..." I said slowly. "Edward."

"Good! I'm going to help myself to a second bowl." He got up and walked to the pot to refill his plate with fettuccine, making me just stare at the void he left in his chair.

Call him Edward.

Edward Nashton? Or Nygma?

"...wanted to share his benefactor, Doctor Strange..." The tv was still showing the news, the only thing filling the place with sound. I frowned immediately. Strange - where'd I heard that name?

I helped myself from my chair to walk to the living room to get a quick look at the screen. On it was the new Mayor and his supposed bennefactor, Doctor Hugo Strange. Words read "Strange helps Mayor!" below them. I tilted my head, trying to remember what I'd remembered that name from...

"He was wanted for malpractice a few years back, wasn't he?" I more asked myself than my company. I hadn't anticipated a response, but then I felt a hot rush of breath on my ear and a whisper of,

"So, you figured it out? Strange. 57R4263. Strange is the answer. Change the numbers to the letters they most look like and you get Strange."

I turned immediately to see the Riddler was before me, our chests damn-near touching. I took a step back as I caught my own breath.

"What?"

"You'd figured it out, I'd assumed."

I stared at him for a long time, before choosing words that could have very well killed me.

"No. I hadn't. You just told me the answer."

Riddler, for the first time that night, frowned.


	10. Riddled

_I know I'm kinda screwin with the time-lines this chapter... But I'm just making a few things such as Hugo's announcement and Scarecrow's radio signals come and exist a little sooner and then just continue to exist until arkham city because he had to make sure Batman heard them.  
Thank you again to the reviewers 3 you make me keep going!_

* * *

"You didn't guess it?" He was walking toward me, slowly, menacingly. Swallowing the lump forming in my throat I began slowly stepping behind me, not wanting to close the space between the two of us.

But he did.

He kept walking until my back was against the wall and he was a mere inches away. If before we'd be close, this time we were closer. Chest touching chest, he leaned his hands on either side of my head to close even the small amount of space we had before. I could smell the Alfredo sauce on his breath, the cologne he'd put on earlier that night.

"Then why were you staring at the screen like a buffoon?" He demanded, leaning his face closer to mine, his forehead brushed against mine for a few seconds, but he pulled back slowly just to leer down at me.

I couldn't help but shake. The excessive change in demeanor of this man was one of the exact things that made him so dangerous.

"I .. I was just trying to remember who the bald guy was." I said in a quick breath, "He looked familiar. I was racking my brain and you just came in and started saying he was the answer to your riddle."

The hands on either side of my head formed fists, I could hear the fabric of the finger less gloves creek. I closed my eyes and licked my lips, trying to will my body to stop shaking.

And to think I was swooning not so long ago.

I truly was a buffoon.

"That -bald- guy" the Riddler bit out, "Is Doctor Hugo Strange. The exact person running Arkham City. The exact man, supposedly who knows the identity of -The Batman-!"

"I'm sorry!" Was all I could say. Why was I sorry? I didn't even know. But the second the words came out, the ice that was in the green of Riddler's eyes suddenly softened, and before I knew it, he was leaning closer to me, much gentler this time.

His forehead laid on mine, one hand fell from the side of my face while the other continued to hold his weight. His eyes closed, his shoulders slumped. Along with him, I relaxed as well.

The Riddler was gone, and Edward was back.

"No... No. It was my fault. Although I rarely make mistakes, I am, after all, human." His voice was quiet, but sober. My body shook again, not in fear this time, but from a shiver that his husk sent up my spine. "I don't often slip up. My apologies."

"It's... uh... alright." I manage to murmur back. His eyes open, and for the first time I'm able to look directly at them - not through his thick-rimmed glasses (which had fallen to the tip of his nose by now). Being so close, I could see they were much more than just green. Yes, a majority was green, but there were little flecks of blue as well. Although blue often followed behind such rare green eyes, the blue flecks near the pupil was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Like the blue sky striking through a foliage of trees. It was beautiful.

He pulled away then, walking back to the living room as though he hadn't just pinned me against the wall with his entire body, and found himself a comfortable position on the couch.

"Now then..." he said calmly. "Let's discuss this, shall we? The answer was Strange... but why Strange?"

I caught my breath, body fuming with heat and knees shaking in jelly. Jesus. I was worse than those kids from the pretty-much-Stockholm-vampire-love-books.

"What?" Was all I could muster as I ambled to my love seat and ungracefully plopped onto it. Edward gave me a tut and a frown.

"Come now, listen up. Strange. Why. Strange." he spoke slowly as though I were too stupid to comprehend.

"Erm... you don't want to go to Arkham City?"

"Hardly." He snorted unattractively, as if my answer was that of a toddlers. "but then again I doubt many wanna go there."

"So what do you want me to do about it?" I sighed.

"Stop it."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Look... your mother worked with a very ... powerful individual." The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

"How do you know my mother worked for Scarecrow?" A lopsided grin was on his face as his laid his legs out across my couch, shoes on and all.

"People talk in the Asylum."

My blood ran cold. Only he was able to have this assortment of reactions out of me in so short a time.

"And he's dead now." I stated flatly, more to assure myself than anything, "Batman saw it himself. What does that have to do with Strange anyway?" Edward picked at his finger less gloves disinterestedly.

"Batman lies and cheats, we all know that. And what -I- wanna know is how Scarecrow got out .. and where he's hiding so I can hide there when the time comes."

"When the time comes?"

"Of course. I have to start in the city after all, and then I have to die - so to speak. Afterwords you and your mother are going to blast me out and take me to wherever Crane is."

My breathing felt shallow.

"The hell I'd agree to that."

"And why not?"

"I'm not breaking the law for you."

He chuckled his low chuckle, the one that sent shivers into me.

"No, but your mother will do it for her boss. and you wouldn't want your mother getting into trouble alone, would you?"

"Is that a threat, Nygma?" I stood now, ready to take him down if I so needed.

"Temper, temper. No threat..." He leaned his head back comfortably and gave me a grin. "Come now, officer... Would -you- want to be in Arkham city? You have to agree that the idea is barbaric and an obvious ploy in order for Strange to corner The Bat and try to finish him once and for all."

"Then wouldn't you want to be in there, to get your chance?"

"Of course - which is why I'm going in, but then getting out once my duty is done."

"And if I don't, my mother will help you."

"No, Crane will help me. And Crane will -use- your mother in order to help me. I figured I'd come to you first in order to protect a woman I once called me associate." My frown deepened, my hands formed fists at my sides.

"No."

"Alright, I'll find a way to contact Crane-"

"Crane's dead."

"Oh but is he?"

I didn't wanna hear that.

"...Yes."

"Is he, dear kitty? Is he dead?" The voice of the Riddle was peaking out - one the edge of Edwards. "You -really- think that Croc did him off?"

"I don't know..." I said, making him roll his eyes at me dramatically.

"Exactly." He said, "you never know."

"What makes you think he is, then?"

He stared at me for a bit - his thought cogs turning, decoding something in the sick head of his. Finally he just said -

"hand me your police radio."

"What? Why?"

"Just. Do it." He was getting exasperated. Rather than deal once more with his Riddler side, I walked to my front desk with my radio, grabbed it, and returned it to him.

"Do you ever just -check- the radio frequencies? Sometimes you find things..."

"-No. I don't. They assign me stations and I keep to them." I snapped back. He was changing the station, trying to find something until finally he came to something that crackled. He listened quietly, eyebrows furrowed, radio pressed up to his ear - until finally - with the raising of his brows and a little "a-ha!" from him, a voice came from the radio.

It was robotic in sound - and eerie. It sent a horrible gut-wrenching squeeze to my stomach when I first heard it. With a click to my tv remote Edward muted my television and the only sound that filled my apartment was the eerie robot voice coming from my radio.

"nine... twenty-three... nine... twelve..." it was listing numbers off. Riddler was listening first, then after a moment scrambled for a paper and began writing down every number it said to him, until he realized he was repeating.

9 23 9 12 12 18 5 20 21 18 14 2 1 20 13 1 14

More riddles.

"There we go." He said triumphantly. "Oh my. my my my. Johnny-boy how dull must you be? Did you think my mind would be unable to decipher this? Childs play, mere childs play."

To me, they just looked like numbers.

"So... what does it mean?" I was behind the couch now, leaning over his shoulder looking over the numbers. No sense could be made of them.

"Really? Can't you see it?" He asked haughtily. I just dumbly shook my head at him. With a huff, he took his pen and begin assigning letters bellow their letters, until clear as day before us read:

I will return Batman.

My stomach continued to turn in knots uncomfortably.

"I heard the first frequency nearly a week after the Arkham incident. -That- one had read 'You will pay for what you have done to me.'... It must be crane. Simply must be." Edward was jabbering from below me. "I can tell these aren't for me, rather The Bat, however it's enough for me to decipher that Crane is actually hiding out somewhere - and likely somewhere close. Letting us all believe him to be dead was the best means to escape."

"This can't be him." I was speaking before I tried. "It. Cant. Be."

"Oh, but it is. You know who owns these channels?" he didn't wait for an answer, "Mr. Fine. Fine has worked with Crane multiple times, setting him up hide-outs, research facilities... and even radio signals." He seemed so smug with himself, knowing this all. "I did the research before I got here."

"How?" I demanded. He looked at me like I'd grown a second head.

"Come now dear, why would I tell you how I learn the things I learn? Besides, its not as though you could handle it, could you?"

I gnashed my teeth together.

"Now would you like brew us some coffee - we have much to discuss, don't you agree?"

With a huff and an over-dramatic turn, I escaped back to my kitchen. On auto-drive I simply brewed some coffee, tried to escape in the smells. Nothing smells better than a brewing pot of coffee, nothing. It was enough to calm me, albeit a very small amount. I was mixing creme into my own cup when Edward once more called,

"Kat! Should we involve your mother? She might be able to tell us if she's been in contact with the ol' chap."

I could throw the coffee on him - the entire pot. It would burn him, and I'd have the time to handcuff him and take him out of my life for good. With my hand firmly around the handle, the entire pot shook. I could get rid of him. Why would I help him? So crazy, simply crazy... Maddening...

"Are you alright?" From the doorway of my kitchen, he stood. His green blazer was off, his white sleeves rolled up. His hair looked even messier than when I left him and some of the top buttons on his shirt were unhooked. He glanced from the pot to me, the cogs turning in his head with swift movement.

You could see the light bulb go off in his head.

"Ah... so that's how it is." He stayed at the doorway, now leaning on it comfortably. "Not that I'd expect you to trust me from the get-go... But you'll get there, monkeys can be trained."

I motioned to splash the coffee at him - but stopped mid stride. Half the contents of the pot sloshed out onto the kitchen floor.

This was all insane.

"Seems you're more battling with yourself, than with me. Riddle me this... What does everyone hate, yet no one is free of its hold. It strikes you at the worst of times, and times when you need most awakened. What am I?"

I shook my head at him quietly. His thin lips, before a playful smirk, seemed to soften. There was no frown, but the smirk felt less... demeaning.

"I suppose you wouldn't, would you? You're the brawn here, I'm the brains." He walked toward the counter to grab some paper towels, and crouched down to begin blotting up my own mess. My boggled mind watched as he quietly cleaned up the remaining coffee, dirtying his finger less gloves in the process. When throwing away the paper towels, he removed the gloves entirely.

"I'll... wash those for you." I murmured. "Next laundry day."

He glanced my direction, eyes through his glasses and facial expressions now unreadable.

"Good. Well then, to the riddles, yes?"

"...Yes. Sure."

* * *

_Ta-da! Scarecrow kinda-re-appears... There was a point to him appearing so early on, I promise :P _


	11. The Fear

We'd gone over more riddles, however before I knew it I was waking up on my couch with a blanket over me and my cell phone's alarm going off. Immediate panic settled within me as I darted to a sitting position and looked around the room quickly.

Nothing. Empty.

My cell phone kept buzzing at me. With a grump I reached for it to flip it off, only to see today's alarm had a note attached to it on the screen-

"Seems monkeys need sleep. I set your alarm to give you precisely an hour to be ready for your shift."

I couldn't tell if I should have been embarrassed or mortified. I had let me guard down so much in front of a -rogue- that I'd fallen asleep. But not only that, the mad man knew my entire schedule.

With a click of the television on, immediately the news opened up with the escape of the Riddler last night from Arkham. I groaned loudly, knowing that Steven would be all over it - insisting I had someone watching me at all times. But then again... maybe he was right.

After all - I had actually spent the night with the Riddler. With Edward.

My face felt hot in a flush as I stood and folded the blanket quickly. Edward. He'd insisted on me calling him that. It made him seem more human, more like the man from my high school days...

But that wasn't him.

Either way, he wasn't here... Or was he?

A quick skim through my small apartment proved he wasn't. I laughed at myself for being so paranoid, and began my morning ritual for getting ready for work.

Work was normal - minus everyone freaking out that yet another rogue was loose. It seemed like I was one of the few that felt one hundred percent calm. Some were going as far as saying staying in the building was dangerous - what if The Riddler blew it up?

To that, I snorted. Edward wouldn't have bothered himself with putting up with my "lesser" mind last night if he would just blow me sky high the next day. Honestly, I felt like it was a waste of time to sit and worry over the rogue - he was probably laying low until later in the night... Then the only one to worry would then be me.

Wouldn't I?

I milled over our last night in my mind, staring dumbly into my coffee like it would sprout answers instantaneously. It didn't, of course. I could see the papers on my desk, his hands scribbling notes, his low voice babbling on and on, using words I'd never so much heard of, much less be able to look up in a dictionary. His glasses would fall to the tip of his nose. Occasionally he'd take them off and rub his eyes. When that happened, I'd top off his coffee. Honestly, last night, I was little help. I was the coffee topper.

Brawn and brain, eh?

More like Brain and maid.

Steven asked me multiple times whether or not the Riddler had come for me. For a moment I considered telling him what had happened... and then didn't. Said I enjoyed my Italian alone and went to bed with a book. Did I feel bad for lying to him? A bit... but telling him what I did last night could honestly get me in trouble for not contacting the police sooner.

Why I wasn't telling any of the police what happened last night still went beyond me.

After work, I sat and waiting for another visit from the Riddler.

But he didn't come.

I fell asleep on the couch again, only this time waiting.

* * *

I woke to the sound of panicked knocking and hisses. I was again started awake, and a quick glance to the clock read 4:23 AM. I hurried to the front door where the quick knocking and hissing was coming from, just to open it to see a blur of green push past me quickly and slam the door behind him.

Standing still facing the door, my half-awake brain tried to collect what was going on.

"We have to move. Now." Edward hissed at me. Ah. The hissing was him trying to talk through the door while masking his voice.

"What?" My voice cracked from not being awake. He grabbed my hand roughly and tugged me to the living room. A quick look at the blanket on the couch and the wrinkles in my suit made what looked to be a quick smirk on his lips.

"Change out of your uniform. and make it -quick-." He said again. I opened my mouth to speak, but he just hit me on the back of the legs with his cane. With a startled yelp I made my way to my bedroom to change. Once in blue jeans and a white button up, I walked back to my living room while saying,

"And just who do you think you are - ordering me around like thi-"

"Hush!" a gloved hand - looks like he had multiple pairs - was clasped around my mouth. "Hush..."

The hairs stood up on the back of my neck as I became aware that the sound of something loud was thumping by my front door. It was loud, almost hollow, and occasionally the sound of what seemed to be something dragging about followed them. Instinctively I reached for my holster - which was no longer around my waist. Riddler lowered the two of us down closer to the floor, all the while peering through his thick glasses at the doorway.

More thunks. Something slid across the floor of my apartment building and stopped in front of my door. My breath came out in a shudder as I reached across from him to the coffee table, where my holster and gun lay. The gun in my hand was barely a comfort, but the cold steel assured me we at least weren't defenseless. Edward glanced from the door to the gun in my hand, then to my eyes. His lips were thin, straight-laced, he had nothing to say.

That was a change.

He made a motion with his finger toward the window. Move, he was saying, now. Still staying low to the ground, I walked slowly toward the window with the fire escape outside of it, Edward close behind me.

I nearly squealed when the hollow thunk knocked on my door. Edward's hand on my shoulder made me stop in my tracks as the knocks continued, one after the other, some with spaces between them. Looking back at him, I could see he was counting them with his fingers quietly.

"Stop." He said slowly after an array of knocks. More came.

"Looking." He said after another long range of them. I opened my mouth to say something, but was immediately hushed by a finger to my lips.

The knocks stopped. But the dragging didn't.

Scratching, up and down my door. My breath hitched in my throat as I sat in a dumbfounded state below the window to my fire escape. Edward eyes were elsewhere - looking completely through me as he continued to listen. Suddenly, when the scratching stopped, he looked to me and said with a quick whisper

"Out the window. Now."

He didn't have to ask me twice. The thumping started again against my door, this time harder - as if whatever was out there was trying to get in. I reached up quickly to unhitch the window and thrust myself out quickly, turning to climb down the ladder toward the alleyway.

"Stop stop." Edward's head was out the window. "Go up, not down."

"Are you crazy?"

"According to the state, yes. Now up! Trust me!" He was out the window and grabbing my wrist toward the opposite ladder, the one leading up. We hadn't even started climbing when we heard the sound of wood splitting and someone screaming. Panic settled in the pit of my stomach as Edward hoisted himself up the ladder first as lightning speed. I wasn't going to linger, I was at his heels the entire time as we climbed the six stories that were above my own, until finally we were at the roof.

Making it to the top, I immediately turned and pointed my gun down from where we just came, safety already off and gun cocked. Safety protocol was out the door with my buzzing panicking mind as I waited for some sort of monster to emerge from my tiny apartment and come after us.

Edward was gasping for breath behind me. The quiet of the night air whizzed through the buildings. Faintly, I could hear someone - or something - tearing my apartment apartment.

It never came to the window.

The sounds continued for a few more minutes, but left us in silence on the roof of my building. Edward continuously watched the skies, his paranoia of a certain black-cladded man apparent on his expression. I still watched below, readying myself to blow anything away that showed its face.

Nothing.

Finally, safety re-clicked into my pistol, I turned back to the mad-man who very well may have just saved me... Or put me into danger to begin with.

"What was that?!" I demanded. Edward was still surveying the sky, a nervous twitch appearing in one of his eyes.

"We can talk when we move..."

"Move -where-? That's my apartment!"

"Kat, you need to listen to me-"

"The hell I do!" I was already talking more loudly than I should. I waited all night for this maniac, despite it going completely against my job, and now he probably just led some maniac to my own home. If this weren't in the news the next day it would be a miracle - hell, if I still had my job the next day it'd be a miracle.

"Kat." Edward's expression was different now, stiff. "You really sincerely need to listen to me."

"Why? So you can keep telling me to help you escape prison? That's it. I'm taking you down to the station right now like I should have last night and-"

"Kat your mother is dead."

Everything went cold all at once.

"What?"

His frown was deep.

"I'm sorry."

My knees wobbled.

"I tried going directly to her instead, due to your seeming to not be able to fully trust me and-"

The click of the safety off my gun pierced the air.

His arms were up in immediate surrender as I pointed the weapon at him.

"What?"

"Calm. Down." His hissed. "Really, you think you'd be a little calmer being such a supposed good police officer-"

"Your pompous bitching isn't helping you!" I shrieked back at him, shaking the gun with my words.

"Pompous? I would say I'm many things but not pompous... Over-zealous? Yes. Intelligent, yes! But pompous - no."

"How about murderer!?" To be tricked by someone like him.

Disgusting little...

"I didn't kill her. She was dead before I got there."

Silence.

"You're lying."

There was a pause.

And then he smiled. It was sickenly sweet, a smile that froze my heart as I felt everything I feared in coming in contact with this dangerous man come to fruitation. The one that was not of Edwards, but of the Riddlers. The precise one that showed he really belonged in Arkham.

"...I am."

Squeazing the trigger was the last thing I heard before I felt my body hit the floor and all the breath be taken from me as my body went into shock. From above me, I could somehow hear Edward screaming my name.


	12. The Toxin

_Hey guys! This'll be another short one but I just -had- to get this out there with the cliff hanger I left you guys. Hope you all enjoy 3 Please review, that stuff keeps me going!_

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I woke struggling some time later, I don't know when. But I knew it was dark still - or was it dark again? As much as I struggled, trying to flail my arms and legs, something was holding me down. I screamed out in an agony I thought I'd never felt before when another gloved hand covered my mouth.

"Hush, Kat. Hush..." Eye shot open to take in my surroundings. I realized I was still in my living room with nothing destroyed. I was below my window toward the fire escape, on the grown face up. Straddling me was Edward, holding my arms down with dark circles under his eyes.

"What...?" I begin to say under his hand, which he took away and leaned back, looking me over.

"Seems the worse of it is over." He sighed.

I sat up to look at him closer. Without thinking I reached out my hands to his chest, searching for the bullet hole I'd punctured him with before. How on earth had he carried me down here after I'd shot him, and why?

"Kat!" Edward gave me an incredulous look as my hands raced over his chest, then belly, over his shoulders and across both arms.

"Did... Did I miss?" my voice shook as I looked up at his pretty green eyes with the blue flecks. They were searching me, looking for answers to some riddle that had formed in his mind.

"Miss what?" He asked as his hands lightly grabbed the side of my arms, stopping my hands from searching the rest of his body.

"The bullet... where's the bullet?" I murmured hurriedly, trying to reach to him again but gaining nothing but being able to grab the sleeves of his jacket due to his hold.

"Bullet?" He asked. His eyes wandered to the wall in a quick thought. "Your greatest fear is shooting me?"

I stared back at him, mouth agape, trying to collect what precisely was going on.

"Edward... Did you really kill my mother?"

I felt defeat. I felt heavy. But most of all, I felt vulnerable. He'd killed my mother, yet treats me with this sort of... unknown tenderness. Granted, all the rogues were capable of being kind to others, they were often kind to one another, but all of this over the fact he knew me as a kid?

"Did I -what-?" He boggled at me. For a few seconds, we stared at each other quietly, him still sitting on me and holding my arms, me admitting defeat. Finally, with a shake of his head, he stood and lifted me with him.

"Honestly. To have such ridiculous fears. Of course an animal such as yourself would have petty ones."

"I don't follow you..." I murmured as he led me to the couch.

"Sit. I'll make you your coffee."

And he did.

Before I knew it, the sun was coming up and I was sitting in a bundle of blankets on my couch with a warm cup of coffee in my hand, black.

"Now... do you know what happened last night?" Edward was sitting on the couch next to me, his arm resting comfortably across the back of it, a leg up on the couch that folded at his knee so it wouldn't drape across me.

I glanced over at him worriedly before saying a quiet,

"No."

He sighed slowly and straightened himself, running one hand over his face in exasperation.

"Tell me girl, how long have you been a police officer?"

"...a few months." Yes, just keep putting me down now that I'd lost everything.

"And how many rogues have you faced since then?"

"...You."

He was opening his mouth to make a point, stopped, and raised a brow at me.

"What?"

"I don't face rogues, usually. I'm not particularly trained and..."

"So you're scared of facing rogues, is that it?" He tapped his chin as though he were solving a puzzle. "Well, that explains things a bit more."

"Explains -what-?"

"Kat. I didn't kill your mother."

"But you said-"

"I didn't." He continued to interrupt with a serious face. "What do you know of... let's say... The Scarecrow?"

I stared at him quietly, trying to piece together what exactly he was trying to point out to me. His jacket was off now, his white sleeves folded up his arms. His glasses were off and on the table as he said he was suffering from a headache. As usual, his hair was everywhere... He looked tired.

"My mother works for him." I said quietly. "He wears a scarecrow outfit. He used to be a scientist until people found out he was experimenting on the people. He uses a fear toxin to make people face their worst fears and-"

"Stop. Stop RIGHT there." Edward reached out to completely nothing to make his point. "Repeat your last statement. He has what?"

"...Fear Toxin."

"And they do what?"

I didn't respond. I just stared at him quietly.

Losing my mother to a rogue. Everything I'd worked for, my home, my job, destroyed in a blink of an eye. Killing a suspect rather than apprehending him.

Edward being behind my demise this entire time.

Killing Edward.

I felt sick as I rested my coffee on my coffee table and cradled my head in my hands.

"That's impossible." I whispered to the floor.

"Is it?" I could hear tenseness in Edward's voice. "How is it so impossible, hmm?" I glanced up at him, seeing his jaw tight and his forehead resting in the hand back up on the back of my couch. He looked aggravated having to spell everything out for me.

"Scarecrow is dead." I said hollowly, more trying to comfort myself.

"Then what do you supposed was out there? The Mad Hatter?"

"Possibly." I said quickly. "It could have been anyone."

"Or it could have been Croc. With fear toxin. Because he works for Scarecrow. And they know we're onto them."

"It's been a -day-!" I suddenly exclaimed, "How on earth could he already know?!"

"They probably have trackers on the radio signals."

"Is that possible?" My voice was raising as I spoke. He gave me a glare before saying,

"What all happened, to your eyes?"

I sat, trying to collect my thoughts.

"You showed up in a panic."

"Happened." He interjected with a nod.

"Saying I had to change from my uniform and we had to get out of here."

"Correct."

"And then there was... something outside my apartment."

"Croc, right, he was."

My blood ran cold.

"Cros was -not- outside my apartment."

"Whatever helps you sleep." He smiled condescendingly, "Then what?"

"We climbed out the window as whatever it was got in. We climbed to the roof. You told me you killed my mother. So I decided rather than take you in to ... to..." I trailed off.

"To what?"

"... nothing."

"To shoot me, is that it? I kill mommy dearest so her little knight in shining armor kills me?"

"I was panicking." I growled before burying my face in the blankets. "You -are- insane, after all."

"Hardly." he snorted.

Hallucination Edward admitted to being insane, didn't he? My heart ached at the thoughts of the night, despite the nights supposed invalidities.

"If what you're saying is true... why weren't you affected?"

"I got out in time." Edward said with a chuckle. "I was out the window before you."

"So you left me?"

"It's better for one of us to suffer than both."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind when you're rotting in Arkham." I spat back at him from my blankets.

"Look. Fear toxin is generally momentary, and so long as you weren't exposed to it for a long period of time, you won't die."

"So you didn't even know if I'd die!"

"I eventually dragged your torso out the window while you thrashed about." He said it so absent mindedly, I felt the urge to punch him.

"Fine! Everything was a mirage." I gave up. I wanted to sleep.

"Yes, it was." His tone was sarcastic, "You get an A plus for effort, but a D for academic."

"Because belittling me will make me like you more." I mumbled bitterly.

"I don't need you to like me, young girl. I merely need you to help me get what I need."

"Which I already told you, I'm not going to." I gave him a glare through a hold in my blanket cuccoon I'd been forming for myself.

"Well... now you have to. Scarecrow knows where you live. Knows who you are. So unless you continue helping me... you'll have to start answering to him, won't you?"

The shiver of fear raced up my back with a cold sliver. More silence filled my apartment as I stared at the steam rolling off my hot coffee. Distantly, the sound of sirens on the world below blared.

He'd planned this. He'd planned to corner me and force me to need his help.

"What do I have to do?" I finally sighed.

"Just help me where I need it. Once I'm out, I'll make sure ol' stalky never bothers you again." He helped himself from the couch and headed to the kitchen. "Now, how about waffles? I think some food will do us both some good after this."

I didn't feel hungry.


End file.
